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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946649">Robins Fall Once</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle'>Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asphyxiation, Batkids Age Reversal, Bullying, But also, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Crush at First Sight, Damian and Tim are the same age, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Robin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason tells himself a lot of things to sleep better at night, Little Robin has no chill, M/M, Mentions of the following:, NO ROMANCE UNTIL DICK IS AN ADULT., Shy Jason Todd, Size Kink, The Author Regrets Everything, and since it apparently bears repeating, no actual romance until Dick is an adult, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:42:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reverse Robins AU. It was bad enough that Robin harboured an unfortunate crush on him and Red Hood had exactly zero (0) idea how to handle it. But no, the little menace disguised as a ray of sunshine had to up the stakes and proceed to drag the best out of him, while not shutting up about how kind and chivalrous Red Hood was.<br/>With his villainous reputation in shambles, Red Hood was not amused.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JayDick Summer Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistemology/gifts">epistemology</a>.</li>



    </ul><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just to make few things clear:<br/><b>English is not my native language</b>, metric system is used because I’m aggressively European and this whole fic is written for the purpose of lessening my pandemic-related anxiety (and because Epistemology’s prompt wouldn’t leave me be).<br/>It’s Reverse Robins AU but Damian and Tim are roughly the same age, and became Batman’s sidekicks at roughly the same time. Jason still dies, then comes back as Red Hood.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The very first chance encounter between the Bat and Red Hood after the intricate revenge plot of the latter blew up in his face, quite literally so, started as one could have expected – with spiteful fury, aggressive disapproval and the barrel of Red Hood’s gun pressed to the temple of the Bat’s newest child soldier.</p><p>“What will you do now, Brucie?!” Red Hood mocked as he tightened his chokehold. The action tearing a terrified little whimper from the kid, flimsy fingers grasping uselessly at his arm; something ugly in his chest thrilled at his captive’s fear. “Gonna fuckin’ chose <strong><em>now</em></strong>?”</p><p>“Jason, listen.” The Bat raised a placatory hand, all calm voice and composed attitude as if he was talking to a rabid animal – but oh, Red Hood knew him a tad too well not to see how clenched his jaw was, to blink and miss how his other hand skirted along his utility belt. “You don’t have to do this -”</p><p>Oh, he didn’t <em>have to</em> do anything at all but that was beside the fucking point. “You either kill me,” he roared, “or I blow his brains out!” He used his death grip to lift the kid’s off the ground and freak him out even further and the kid didn’t disappoint, trembling in fear now, clawing helplessly at his biceps.</p><p>Did Red Hood call him the Bat’s newest <em>child soldier</em>? Oh, pardon. He meant <em>soon-to-be casualty</em>.</p><p>The tension was screaming in every line of his body, betraying his readiness to attack at a moment’s notice, yet the Bat did his damnedest to feign calm, trying to dissuade him. “Robin has nothing to do with it -”</p><p>Boohoo, yeah, WHATEVER. Sucks to be the kid for Red Hood didn’t feel like being reasoned with, not when he was so incredibly salty about Joker’s continued existence and burning with the need to make the Bat suffer.</p><p>“Oh, is that what you call them now?” He cut right in with a sneer. “No Bat Kids or Bat Lads anymore?” The muscles in his arm flexed as he tightened his grip on the kid even further; flimsy fingers grew desperate in their fumbling. “Got inspired in your old age, or -”</p><p>“<em>Oh my god, you are so ripped!</em>”</p><p>“- ran out of synonyms for <em>disposable sidekick</em> already?” Red Hood finished his jeer with significantly less heat than at the beginning of the sentence, feeling a tiny little bit thrown off. Did his complimentary Pit madness deluxe package include suspiciously thirsty voices in his head that he was just learning about now? Or did someone actually say something?</p><p>Well, surely not the Bat, for the obvious reasons, plus the fact he was too busy staring at his sidekick in mute horror. Apart from the two of them and the terrified kid, no one else was there to butt in on this late-night rooftop showdown.</p><p>Red Hood shook his head. Never-fucking-mind, then.</p><p>“Tick-tock, Bat!” He taunted. “What’s it gonna be? You shoot me or -”</p><p>“<em>Do you work out?</em>”</p><p>“- the kid’s dead meat, THE FUCK?!” The threat was followed by a scandalised roar of confusion as soon as the voice spoke up again and the meaning of its words sunk in. Red Hood was looking around wildly, searching for the lecherous trespasser, but there was no one in sight.</p><p>…There was, however, a seed of absurd suspicion taking root in his mind, so he peered down at his captive, expecting the quivering lips and tears mixed with snot to weed said suspicion out. Instead, he saw the most impish grin in existence adorned with a freaking dimple on each side – and the suspicion grew luxuriantly to blossom with cursed certainty that the kid was not shaking in his green pixie boots but openly leering up at him.</p><p>Dumbstruck, Red Hood blinked once. Then twice. Then his whole world came crashing down around him and crawling from under the rubbles were dawning realisations of how those whimpers – or rather, what he had assumed to be whimpers – had a moan-like quality to them and the flimsy fingers rather than miserably failing at their attempts to loosen the chokehold were, in fact,<em> feeling him up</em>.</p><p>To show the kid off and back away quickly to the edge of the roof while uncontrollably spluttering and <em>blushing</em> would have been his knee-jerk reaction, had he not been above all else feeling deeply offended. <em>This</em> was Red Hood enacting impulsive revenge, so how in the fresh hell the kid dared to make it about his teenage hormones!</p><p>“Listen, kid,” He snarled.  “I could snap you in two like a fucking twig -”</p><p>“Ooh, I <em>bet</em> you could.” The kid sounded as if he found the idea delightful <strike>and a part of Red Hood that wasn’t absolutely livid was dying of mortification</strike>.</p><p>The Bat unfroze long enough to berate his sidekick with a hissed, “Robin!”</p><p>Neither the kid nor Red Hood paid him any attention.</p><p>“You think this,” Red Hood growled as he dug the barrel of his gun into his temple, “is a goddamn joke?!” He demanded, hating how the gravely quality of his voice made the kid shiver.</p><p>The kid – Robin, was it? – grinned even wider. The dimples deepened. “No. This is me humouring you.”</p><p>And then, he turned into a liquid – or maybe suddenly all his bones evaporated (or maybe he was not so much a <em>robin</em> as a part slippery eel, after all) – because he was twisting and turning, and bending in ways no human body should be able to. There was a flash of too many, too bright colours; a sound of the safety clicked back on, then the gun hitting concrete floor, knocked away from his hand; bare legs wrapping themselves around his waist, while equally bare arms (<em>the hell was this kid wearing?!</em>) sneaked around his neck, and before Red Hood could finish saying <em>what the actual fuck?!</em> he found himself with an armful of possibly colour-blind contortionist menace, looking entirely too pleased with himself.</p><p>“With that out of the way, shall we?” The menace asked.</p><p>Red Hood long since lost both the control and basic understanding of this situation. “Shall we what?” He asked, stupefied. The red of his helmet reflected in the white lenses of Robin’s domino mask.</p><p>Robin playfully swatted him on the arm. “Go on a date, silly!”</p><p>Red Hood barked out an incredulous laugh. The kid, however, seemed pretty serious about this <em>date</em>-thing, despite the huge-ass grin splitting his face in half, and as that little observation got through to Red Hood, laughter turned into a startled yelp. The scales rapidly tipped from <em>murderous rage</em> to <em>hot embarrassment</em> because deep down Red Hood was one Jason Todd who couldn’t flirt to save his life, while his brain unapologetically blue screened on him, forcing him to default to his knee-jerk reaction.</p><p>Unfortunately, Robin held onto Jason surprisingly strong, legs and arms closed around him in a death grip. At the end of his rope already, Jason strode to the Bat, who got the hint, thank fuck, and helped him detach his sidekick from him.</p><p>“No!” Robin lamented, as Jason made a beeline to the edge of the rooftop, picking his gun up on the way. “At least give me your number!”</p><p>A quick look behind his shoulder revealed Robin staring right back at him, struggling to free himself from the Bat’s expert grip. Jason felt for his grappler to tear it out of his pocket and shoot blindly somewhere, <em>anywhere</em>, away from the site of this fiasco.</p><p>“Another time, then!” The sound of Robin’s voice and the words of his threat were still ringing in Jason’s ears when he stopped to catch a breath half the city away.</p>
<hr/><p>Much later, secreted in one of his safe houses with a calming cup of camomile tea in his hand, Jason was going over that night’s events for the umpteenth time, trying to pinpoint what exactly had gone wrong.</p><p>Aside from <em>every damn thing</em>, that is.</p><p>Truth to be told, he hadn’t even planned on confronting the Bat so soon, not when his next revenge plot consisted of but a few vague ideas scribbled on his vision board. But then, he saw the old man grappling his way through the city like he owned the place, followed closely by yet another disposable sidekick he had replaced Jason with even before the grass started to grow on his fake grave, and his blood <em>boiled</em>.</p><p>It was vicious intent and not a single conscious thought that put the grappler into his hand. It was an echo of that rage every dead thing felt when dragged back alive that sent him chasing after the duo as he wondered. If a bullet to Joker’s head wasn’t enough to spur the old man into action, then maybe a threat against his new precious child soldier, fucking apple of the Bat’s eye if the Crime Alley hearsay was to be believed, would do the trick. And if the kid got offed in the process for real, oh well. You could never have too much of the good thing, Jason supposed.</p><p>But then, everything went to shit because the sidekick apparently decided that being held at a gunpoint was arousing and thus, <em>flirted with him</em>.</p><p>Who fucking did that?! <em>Who</em>, Jason was asking, WHO?!</p><p>…Not a Batman’s sidekick, that’s who. Jason was sure of that little, the more he thought about it, for the old man, whether he realised it or not, had a type when it came to the recruits to his little fucked-up Bat crusader club. There was Damian <em>what do you mean you took a sub-par sidekick, I’M THE BLOOD SON</em> Wayne, there was Tim <em>you’re no better than me and fuck you too</em> Drake, and joining them later was Jason <em>yeah, I’m a street rat and fuck you both</em> Todd (there really was no love lost between the three of them, was there?), and no matter how he looked at it, a…<em>flirty</em> ray of sunshine running around in too little kevlar, not to mention actual clothing, did not fit in with this crowd.</p><p>Ergo, that Robin character could not possibly be the Bat’s sidekick, and if he wasn’t his sidekick, then he had no business consorting with the Bat, and if he wasn’t consorting with the Bat, then Jason couldn’t have met him nor be leered at by him, nor be felt up for that matter. So, since no shameless adolescent hanging out with the Bat existed, no leering or groping took place that night, and Jason was just waking up from a very vivid nightmare because it was only the good, old Pit fucking up with mind again.</p><p>There, problem solved! And to think he literally spent <em>hours</em> agonising over nothing.</p><p>With a firm nod, Jason convinced himself that both the rooftop showdown and Robin himself were but a feverish dream of his deranged mind.</p><p>*</p><p>Unfortunately, little Robin didn’t get that memo.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The word on the Crime Alley was that Batman was doing a stakeout.</p><p>Red Hood received this piece of intel with a sharp nod and a twenty-dollar bill he bid his informant with out of professional courtesy, but truth to be told, he couldn't have cared less. He had been taking it easy these past few days, working on his mastermind revenge plot while enjoying the state of denial (there was no Robin in <strike>Ba Sing Se*</strike> Gotham City), and he would much rather stay with his pot of camomile tea and a vision board rather than run after the Bat like a headless chicken, <em>thank you very much</em>.</p><p>Having said that, with each passing hour he grew more and more restless. He didn’t have a single fuck to give about the Bat’s inconsequential mission, yet the thought of him being precious about his little stakeout was so annoyingly <em>there</em> in the back of his mind, it was seriously pissing him off. The savvy strategist in him saw little point in randomly seeking the old man out to antagonise over nothing – but <em>the fuck he was doing</em> wasting his time freezing his butt off on some random, non-descript rooftop?! The rundown dump was so damn shady Red Hood could tell from miles away on a foggy day it hosted a meth lab!</p><p>That mental tug of war had him itching for some action, by the time the evening rolled around, preferably in a form of a good, old fashioned brawl. The Bat was basically begging him to go and mess this shit for him, Red Hood decided, and while he was loath to oblige to anything the Bat might beg of him, taking out Gotham’s various scumbags always did wonders to improve his mood. Besides, not everything between him and the old man had to be a long game, did it? Sometimes, it could be just <em>the art for art's sake</em>, with Red Hood thwarting the Bat's plans for nothing more than the hell of it.</p><p>And so it was that he parted with his pot of tea on that fine, if chilly evening, in favour of sneaking into the old factory through the back to deal with the stem major dropouts slash drug lords wannabes in much more…permanent manner than the one Bat was partial to. He stalked down the corridor leading to the former production hall where he expected the lab to have been set up, keeping a keen eye on any disposable sidekick turned disposable associate. There was no telling whether the Bat went lone wolf this time or not, but should Red Hood run into Ghul or Bat Kid – or was it <em>Bat Lad</em> now? <em>Bat Teen </em>maybe? Surely not <em>Bat Boy</em>!</p><p>(Red Hood was digressing.)</p><p>...Should he run into Ghul or whatever it was Timbo called himself these days, Red Hood would be more than happy to impale the former on that stick permanently showed up his ass and pummel the haughty smirk off the latter’s stupid face. Both free of charge, for the old time’s sake.</p><p>But if any of them were indeed present somewhere on the premises, Red Hood didn't run into either one, because he got ambushed by Someone Else first.</p><p>“<em>Red Hood!</em>”</p><p>An excited whisper was all the warning he got. A metal crate fell to the concrete floor with a loud <em>clunk!</em>, and Red Hood almost jumped out of his skin when a masked face adorned with the most obnoxious grin in existence and a pair of dimples appeared out of nowhere, right before his eyes. He knew that grin, Red Hood realised with a sense of dread, for he had been seeing it every night in his nightmares, curling the lips of a certain colourful, shameless menace. A figment of his Pit-fuelled imagination now plaguing his waking moments, dangling upside-down from the ventilation vent.</p><p>Red Hood quickly backed away a couple of steps, desperately pinching his arm, but nope, he wasn’t waking up and neither was the menace fading into nothingness like an obnoxious, flirty hallucination that he – <em>oh, dear fuck!</em> – <strong>wasn’t</strong>.</p><p>“What a hot guy like you is doing in a cold place like this?”</p><p>…There were words in the English language. They existed and Red Hood knew them, but they all died on his tongue because he had not just become the recipient of arguably one of the most god awful pick-up lines ever.</p><p>His horrified silence could have been interpreted in a number of ways, so of course, Robin went and picked up one that made no sense whatsoever. “Oh, you wanted to see me?” He gasped, brimming with excitement, his breath visible in the cold air.</p><p>Red Hood blanched. “What? NO.” He fervently denied. He felt it was crucial to nip this ludicrous idea in a bud.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Batman,” Robin said in a conspiratorial whisper, <em>still</em> dangling upside down from the vent.</p><p>“I'm not here to see you!” He hissed, in what he would like to think was contempt bordering on fury, but was, in fact, panicked exasperation.</p><p>The menace ignored him. “Because I don’t <em>kiss</em> and tell.” He winked.</p><p>His fight or flight instinct (just flight in this case) kicked in a fraction of second too late. He was still frowning at the way that one word was pronounced, irrelevant to the accent Robin spoke with and Red Hood couldn’t place when the menace slid from his perch to fall right into his arms. Red Hood hated himself for instinctively catching the scantily clad body (how had he not got pneumonia yet, running around in a cape and sleeveless leotard?!) on a crash course with him, especially as the side of his helmet suffered a big smooch from Robin.</p><p>This was not fucking happening.</p><p>“So I've been thinking,” Robin said, lacing his arms around Red Hood’s neck and otherwise making himself comfortable in his hold. “Do you remember when we first met and you were kind of...choking me a bit?”</p><p>No, he did not. Red Hood had been doing his best to repress any memory of that night.</p><p>“I think I liked that. Any chance for an encore?”</p><p>His mind came to a screeching halt, then did an equivalent of storming out and slamming the door shut behind it.</p><p>“Excuse me?!” He hissed once he remembered how speech worked. “Absolutely fucking NOT!” He snapped. Utterly scandalised, he suddenly felt very empathetic with the snobbish upper-class ladies, offended by Jason <em>the street rat</em> Todd's mere presence at the Wayne galas and advising Damian to hide the family's silvers. If he had the pearls on him, he would even fucking clutch them.</p><p>Robin hummed, lost in thought. “Maybe you're right. We should at least go on that date first.” He grinned. The dimples came back with vengeance.</p><p>Red Hood could not believe this kid.</p><p>“Anyway, shall we –”</p><p>“Listen, kid,” Jason cut right in.</p><p>“Robin,” the menace corrected, without losing a bit.</p><p>“<em>WHATEVER</em>,” he growled because that was so beside the point.</p><p>The kid honest to god pouted. Red Hood felt very tired all of sudden.</p><p>“How old are you even?” He asked in a rush of inspiration, eyeing warily the kid and his outfit. Sure, Robin was on a slim side and Red Hood could spot traces of puppy fat about his features, but surely the Bat wouldn't allow the menace to run around in <em>that</em>, if he was still in middle school, right?</p><p>Robin puffed out his chest like it was spring. “I’m basically almost sixteen.”</p><p>Red Hood felt his insides go cold. From his own experience, he knew that <em>basically almost sixteen</em> was a codename for <em>barely over fifteen</em> which was definitely <em>under </em>the age of sixteen.</p><p>Ignoring the cries of protest, he violently shook Robin off his person, then backed away until his back hit the wall where the corridor was making a turn.</p><p>The old Bat chose that exact moment to make a dramatic entrance, rushing in from the other side, only to stop dead in his track's, while his jaw slackened and whatever words had been there on his tongue died a sudden and violent death, at the sight of the sidekick – <em>Robin</em> – pouting on the floor and fearsome Red Hood desperate to put as much distance between himself and the menace as possible.</p><p>“YOU!” Red Hood pointed a shaky finger at the Bat, then helplessly gesticulated in the general direction of the underage menace. “Control your jailbait!”</p><p>With those words he stormed out, meth labs and vengeance long forgotten.</p>
<hr/><p>In the light of recent events, one issue became apparent – any plan Red Hood would meticulously craft was bound to fail, should he continue to disregard the unknown variable old Bat brought to the table. All the more given the fact said variable seemed specifically designed to torment him by turning his awkwardness, one thing the Pit couldn't cure, against him.</p><p>In other words, it was high time Red Hood learned about the enemy.</p><p>The rumour mill on the Dark Side of Gotham didn’t shed much light on the mystery of the shameless sidekick<strike> with a thing for </strike><strike>asphyxiation (Jason died a little inside whenever he thought about it)</strike>. Depending on whom he asked, Robin was a <em>nice kid</em>, <em>good kid</em> or <em>pretty boy</em> (the fucker who shared that last sentiment did so in unnervingly <em>wink-wink nudge-nudge</em> kind of way, so Red Hood felt obliged to smash his head into a wall), but all agreed what a <em>damn shame</em> it was that little Robin turned out to be one of the Bats. Surveillance camera recordings weren’t very helpful either, as watching the kid flip and jump, and have no bones had Red Hood growing dizzy in less than twenty seconds.</p><p>Fortunately, an investigation into the Wayne side of things proved to be more fruitful. The newspaper clippings told a story about the circus that used to visit Gotham every now and then, a family of world-renowned aerial artists, and a terrible accident Red Hood at a single glance could tell had the mob written all over. Pages upon pages of search results for <em>Wayne adopts an orphan</em> provided fine details like how all three Bats in the civvies had been there when the Graysons fell to their deaths and the trashy Gotham Gazette had raved about <em>another</em> child of questionable background (and this one might not even be a US citizen!) for three consecutive issues then suddenly went quiet on the subject, never to print the name <em>Richard Grayson</em> again. Moreover, Red Hood quickly came to realise, people knew about the young Wayne ward and gushed about the kid just like random thugs did about his vigilante persona, too blinded by the <em>nice</em> and <em>good</em> to see him for the <em>obnoxious</em> and <em>shameless </em>that he was. But not the Bat – no, the old man had got to be well aware of the vices of his little wild card, to utilize them so proficiently in his psychological warfare against Red Hood. The Bat was crafty and well aware how damn awkward young Jason used to get when kids at Gotham Academy pissed off their rich daddies by asking <em>the street rat</em> out; the Bat knew all that and was crafty, Red Hood could give him that.</p><p>But not anymore. Red Hood saw right through his plans, so next time he had the misfortune to cross paths with the sidekick, he would not allow little Robin to mess with his head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*A line obviously borrowed from <i>Avatar the Last Airbender</i> 😉.</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>2020 is going on strong, so here is another instalment of Hedgebelle-sponsored ridiculousness.<br/>@epistemology please, forgive me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had the misfortune to cross paths with Robin again under somewhat memorable circumstances of a random alien invasion.</p><p>“Taste my lead, you fuckers!” Red Hood snarled as he shot his guns, running down the alley. Bodies were falling right, left and centre, but another wave of hostile extra-terrestrials was already heading his way. He had no clue who they were or where they came from. All that he <em>did</em> know was that one moment he was enjoying a relaxing night in, drinking camomile tea and reading <em>Persuasion</em>, and the next he was chasing the most stereotypical little green men out of his safe house.</p><p>A small group of wizened homeless man peeped out from an alleyway. “Doin' god's work there, Hood!” They cheered, then turned the other way to do some quality god's work themselves, chunking Molotov cocktails at the incoming horde of aliens.</p><p>The scum of the city, bless their hearts. You could always count on them to defend the literal or figurative dumpster they called home.</p><p>Red Hood saluted to them and shoot yet another invader. The creature fell to the ground in a mass of a green gooey substance.</p><p>“Damn, you lot are ugly inside out, aren’t ya?” He sneered.</p><p>The tallest of the bunch of aliens crowding the street around him huffed and retorted in a series of scandalised chirps. Red Hood couldn’t shake off the feeling this one understood human speech and had a working knowledge of English.</p><p>He quickly reloaded his guns and jumped right back into the fighting frenzy, shooting and punching, and kicking, and tearing off flimsy libs with his own, all the while feeling rather salty. The streets by now had got to be crawling with Justice League members and other non-affiliated parties of meta persuasion who had been gleefully flocking to the city ever since the images of a mothership over the Wayne Tower hit the international news. They were there to help fight off the invasion, but more importantly – to piss the Bat off with their presence, knowing full well that in this particular case, the old man had to grin and bear it. Not to mention all the respectable, Gotham-born criminals currently out of Arkham were honour bound to unite with the Bats and defend their monopoly on turning the city into a shithole from the outside threats. (The aliens clearly lacked intel on Earth’s affairs, if they thought that <em>Gotham</em> of all the cities on this good green Earth was a good place to park their ride.) Yet, it was Red Hood alone who bothered to protect the least glorious part of the city, namely the Crime Alley.</p><p>But it was fine! He got this thing under control. Besides, the Alley residents with their well-timed Molotov cocktails provided all the backup he needed.</p><p>Still, backup found its way to him anyway and made its presence known in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion.</p><p>“RED HOOD!” A painfully familiar voice bellowed and echoed throughout the bad part of Gotham.</p><p>The fighting ceased at once. Heads turned, aliens shuffled around uncertainty, chirping in confusion, then green fingers pointed and gasps fell all around.</p><p>Red Hood didn't need to squint up at the roof of the nearby building, to know that standing there in a heroic pose no doubt practised in front of a mirror for hours on end was none other than the little menace himself.</p><p>He cursed under his breath. The menace being a shameless nuisance was about the last thing he needed right then, on top of everything else.</p><p>Robin flapped his cape about, clearly enjoying the attention he commanded. Red Hood just knew he had that that infuriating impish grin plastered to his face. He could almost <em>smell</em> it.</p><p>“Are you an alien too?” The kid called a seemingly nonsensical question.</p><p>The extra-terrestrial confusion intensified, while Red Hood's heart sank. On the basis of their previous encounters, he had a terrible suspicion where this might be going.</p><p>“Because you are out of this world!”</p><p>...And if that was how being right felt like, Red Hood wouldn’t mind being proven wrong for the rest of his life.</p><p>The tallest among the aliens was chirped something to his brothers-in-arms…no, wait, <em>hold on just a fucking second</em>, the fucker didn’t just chirp random shit, he <em>interpreted</em> that lame pickup line. The horde of extra-terrestrials listened slack-jawed to his speech, turned to squint up at Red Hood, then en masse burst into peals of laughter. Their merriment, oddly reminiscent of an aggressive chihuahua dog, created a perfect, humiliating harmony with the guffaws coming from the alleyways.</p><p>Underneath his helmet, Red Hood’s face was burning. “I fuckin’ hate you.”</p><p>But Robin didn’t hear him. He jumped off the rooftop<strike>, giving Red Hood a minor heart attack,</strike> and did a series of complicated flips that had both him and the aliens growing dizzy, to land gracefully in the swarm of aliens, throwing weapons in each hand.</p><p>Just like that, the fight resumed. Robin kept doing his gravity-defying acrobat shit, distracting the extra-terrestrials so thoroughly, they basically turned into a bunch of sitting ducks, ripe for Red Hood's bullets. It was laughably easy to take them down now, with the confusion of bright, clashing colours jumping around, never staying in one place, and Molotov cocktails exploding all around them.</p><p>He couldn’t even begin to guess how long the fight lasted. Maybe it was over in minutes, maybe it stretched on for hours. At one point, though, everything grew startlingly quiet. There were no more little green men up and about on the Alley, no sounds of fighting echoing in the distance. The skies weren't illuminated with the flashy displays of metas' powers anymore, fading back into their regular light- (and otherwise) polluted dark colour.</p><p>It seemed the invasion ended just as suddenly and unexpectedly as it had started.</p><p>Red Hook looked around. There were piles of rubble here and there, but otherwise, the Crime Alley infrastructure appeared to survive the invasion mostly intact.</p><p>The little menace was nowhere to be seen, though.</p><p>“Hey, kid!” He called. “Robin!” After a pause, he reluctantly used the sidekick name. “You alright?” He desperately did <strong>not</strong> want to give the menace a false impression that he <em>cared</em>, but...well. The kid did ditch the Bats to help out here, at the Crime Alley, not the rich, snobby Gotham Academy like he kind of expected him to. Red Hood could at least make sure he was still in one piece.</p><p>“<em>In here!</em>” A weak voice called from behind a particularly large pile of rubble. “<em>Hurry, please!</em>”</p><p>Red Hood reached in him in a few fast strides, sidestepping the fallen aliens. Robin was lying on the pavement, pouting something fierce. Red Hood frowned; there was some green goo smeared across his face, but the kid seemed unscratched to him. What was he upset about?</p><p>Then, he noticed how the menace was clutching at his ankle.</p><p>“I broke my ankle,” Robin sniffed.</p><p><em>Yeah, okay</em>, Red Hood discretely breathed a relieved sigh. Last time he checked, injured ankles were non-lethal conditions. The Bats could take it from here.</p><p>He made to leave, but the kid sniffed again. “And my comms are down. It will take <em>ages</em> before Batman and the others think to look for me here.” He winced in pain, staring mournfully at his leg. “I guess I have to ask you to <em>carry me</em> home.”</p><p>Red Hood hastily took a step back. Oooooh, no. No fucking way. Not now, not ever, and especially not after that <em>out of this world</em> comment. Plus, something about the way he said <em>carry me</em> rubbed Red Hood the wrong way that had exactly nothing to do with the strange accent of Robin’s he still couldn’t place.</p><p>“Yeah, that's not gonna happen, kid.” He sneered, turning his back to him, ready to leave for real this time.</p><p>“What if I won't be able to fly again?” Robin lamented. “What if my ankle doesn't heal right? Any delay might mean I'll never regain my full motor motion, and if I can't fly anymore –”</p><p>Red Hood ground his teeth. “A lesser man would leave you here.” He informed the kid because he was a lesser man, dammit, and Robin would not get into his head.</p><p>“Then I am very lucky you’re not a lesser man, am I not?” The confidence in his voice, the faith he put in those words was so astoundingly unfounded, Red Hood could not help looking over his shoulder at the menace.</p><p>And he instantly wished he hadn't. Robin was a picture of absolute unshaken trust, looking up at him with an earnest expression. His impish grin took on a disarming quality and the dimples made an appearance, too.</p><p>“God-fucking-dammit!” He growled, beyond frustrated. “Okay, ALRIGHT, I will take you to the fucking base!” He marched up to the kid, furious, and gathered him in his arms.</p><p>The kid was obviously delighted. His face was practically split in half with a huge, smug grin when he was picked up and carried across the Alley, a fact that seriously grated on Red Hood’s nerves. He had half a mind to drop the menace to the ground and leave him to his own devices after all, when the kid took liberties to make himself comfortable in his hold and snuck a hand around his neck, but <strong><em>nooo</em></strong>. As if sensing his half-baked intentions, Robin took the countermeasures that proved to be Red Hood undoing. He gentled his grin from obnoxious to adoring, whispering, “You're so cool, Hood!” then rested his head on his shoulder.</p><p>And that was a checkmate. Red Hood was cornered with nowhere to run. Spite or scorn was no biggy, as far as he was concerned, because he was proficient at dealing with both, but adoration? Against <em>that</em>, he was as defenceless as a newly born kitten.</p><p>He only spoke up again when he put the kid on his motorcycle.</p><p>“You'll have to...um.”</p><p>“Hold onto you?” Robin offered brightly. “It will be my pleasure.”</p><p>Red Hood felt his face heat up. “If you try anything,” he raged to cover up the fact he might have been panicking just a little bit here. “I fuckin' swear I'll -!”</p><p>“Nah, don't worry,” Robin waved him off. “Road safety first. Besides, I'm a gentleman.”</p><p><em>A shameless menace is what you are</em>, he wanted to retort oh so badly, but wisely decided not to look the horse gift in the mouth.</p><p>The kid wrapped his arms around his middle. He also rested his cheek against his broad back with a content sigh (that had Red Hood squirming in mortification), but otherwise kept his world.</p><p>Soon, Red Hood got them to Batman's base.</p>
<hr/><p>“Robin!”</p><p>The motorcycle barely came to a stop, the engine still on, when Damian <em>I'm the blood son</em> Wayne plucked the menace up from his seat to frantically look him over, checking for injuries. Two steps behind them, Timbo was fooling no one acting like he hadn't been worried sick too. Both he and Ghul were all suited with just their faces left bare, as if they had been getting ready to march back into the streets. The old Bat was nowhere to be seen, most likely still busy wrapping things up with the Justice League and glaring the metas into leaving <em>his </em>city.</p><p>Seeing as his frantic check-up surprisingly yielded no results, Damian moved onto the step on the agenda – scolding. “We <em>specifically </em>INSTRUCTED YOU to STAY CLOSE, <strong><em>what were you thinking</em></strong>, RUNNING OFF ON YOUR OWN?!”</p><p>Red Hood was displeased to notice the supposedly broken ankle magically became a non-issue</p><p>“He wasn't thinking, that's the crux of the problem.” Timbo hissed, a disapproving father to Damian's fretting mother. Witnessing this little domestic dynamic they had going on was arguably the most grotesque thing Red Hood had experienced all day and he did become a subject of ridicule for the extra-terrestrial army, courtesy of Robin’s terrible pickup line.</p><p>He was going to have nightmares about it.</p><p>“Aww, you shouldn't have worried,” the menace cooed, no doubt wearing that infuriating grin of his. “I was with Red Hood!”</p><p><em>The hell is wrong with this kid</em>, Red Hood thought not for the first time, low-key insulted,<em> that exactly should have been a cause for worry! </em></p><p>Given the horrified disbelief written all over their dumb faces, at least both Ghul and Timbo seemed to share his sentiment, small consolation that it was. Also, only now did they seem to notice that their estranged once-a-fellow-sidekick was there too, having played an unwilling chauffeur for the little menace.</p><p>Damian rose to his full height, gathering Robin protectively at his side. “Todd.” He acknowledged with a sharp nod, spitting out the word like it was poison at the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“Ghul.” Jason spat out the acknowledgement right back, eyes narrowed. He could play the game of passive-aggressive courtesy slash barely-there politeness with the tyrant terror of his adolescent days, no problem.</p><p>Never to be outdone in his eternal pissing contest with <em>the blood son</em>, Timbo nodded at him too. “<em>Street rat</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Bat Lad</em>,” Jason growled the obsolete sidekick name. Trust Drake to be the same asshole he had always been, all condescending about the gaps in his formal education and looking down his ugly nose at Jason’s street smarts, even when those street smarts, not Timbo's precious detective skills, had saved all their asses on numerous occasions.</p><p>Ungrateful bastard.</p><p>He was about to share some of those thoughts out loud, but a textbook example of scandalised gasp cut right in.</p><p>“That wasn’t very nice, Timmy.” Little Robin chastised, his obnoxious grin suddenly gone.</p><p>“<em>Timmy</em>,” Jason parroted with a snort.</p><p>Timbo gave him a stinky eye before turning his attention back to the menace. “It wasn’t supposed to be nice.”</p><p>The kid lived up to his part-slimy eel heritage, slithering out of Damian's grasp. He practically emanated indignations as he marched up right into Timbo's personal space, put his hands on his hips and craned his neck to look him in the eye. With the opening huff, he launched into an impassioned monologue.</p><p>“If you cared about me AT ALL, you would be THANKING HIM. Red Hood didn’t simply <em>save my life</em>; he <strong><em>heroically</em> </strong>fought his way through the hordes of bloodthirsty aliens hellbent on tearing me apart piece by piece to feast upon my broken flesh –”</p><p>...Yeah, no. That was not how Red Hood remembered it. Judging by the sceptically raised eyebrow, Damian was taking this story with more than just a grain of salt, too.</p><p>“But on top of all that,” the kid was on the roll, “he was also <strong>KIND </strong>enough to go OUT OF HIS WAY to bring me back to the Batcave, safe and sound!”</p><p>“Batcave?” Red Hood turned dubiously to Ghul.</p><p>“Please, don’t ask,” he muttered in response.</p><p>“- So unless you apologise to Red Hood, I won’t talk with you, Timmy.”</p><p>Wait, what? Was that all it took?! Red Hood just had to be his regular rude fuck to rid himself of the menace?!</p><p>How come this was the first time he was hearing about this?! And what was Timbo even doing hesitating, that was the sweetest deal Jason had ever heard of!</p><p>But Timbo was hesitating. The longer the silence stretched, the more pinched his expression got. In Jason's opinion, it made him look like he solely lacked fibre in his diet.</p><p>“I'm not going to apologise to <em>him</em>,” he scoffed like he was unsure whether to find the idea more ludicrous or offensive.  </p><p>(Fuck you too, Timbo. Fuck you too.)</p><p>Robin folded his arms and pointedly looked to the side.</p><p>“Did you already forget what he had done the second he got back to Gotham?” Timbo demanded.</p><p>Robin turned his attention to his nails. He remained <strike>blessedly</strike> silent.</p><p>“<em>Twelve heads in a duffel bag</em>, does it not ring any bells?!”</p><p>“Dami, can I go on a patrol with you next week? It seems that I won’t have the company after all.”</p><p><em>Hot damn</em>, Jason barely resisted the urge to low whistle. Robin was not just a little menace, he was a <em>crafty</em> little menace. Most likely even craftier than the old Bat himself was, to play the idiots with their pissing contest like a fucking fiddle.</p><p>Timbo reddened. “Todd.” His mouth made a dramatic downturn and there was a vein building dangerously by his temple, but eventually, he forced out awfully insincere, “I apologise.”</p><p>Wow.</p><p><em>Wooow</em>, sincere or not, Jason would sooner expect the Waynes to pass away, having tragically choked on their holier-than-thou attitude, than hear any of them say they are <em>sorry</em> for anything to anyone ever.</p><p>How in the sweet fuck did the menace make it happen?</p><p>“Is he a meta?” Jason asked in a theatrical whisper because that would be the most plausible explanation to what had just occurred before his disbelieving eyes.</p><p>“More often than not, I dwell on this query myself,” Damian whispered back.</p><p>“Thank you, Timmy!” Robin chirped – fucking <em>chirped</em> and gave disgruntled Timbo a brief hug. As soon as he stepped away from him, he turned to Damian. “Shouldn’t we invite Red Hood upstairs for tea? As a thank you?” While his voice might have sounded innocent, everything about him made it painfully obvious there was only one correct answer to this question.</p><p>“Oh, HELL NO!” Jason exclaimed, startled out of his dumbfounded state. He only stayed this long within the five-kilometre radius of the two generous contributors to the cause of turning his teenage years miserable only out of morbid curiosity and petty desire to see little Robin work his menace ways on someone else for a chance. But if the kid thought he could intimidate Jason by his display of power<strike>, he did so splendidly,</strike> or bend him to his will like the stupid fuckers, then had another thing coming, for Red Hood would <strong>not </strong>do his (and by extension, Batman’s) bidding!</p><p>(<em>Then I am very lucky you’re not a lesser man, am I not?</em>)</p><p><strong>From now on</strong>, he would not!</p><p>“In your fucking dreams!” Red Hood sneered at the kid, then started up his motorcycle and set off on the course to <em>the fuck out of here</em>.</p><p>Robin called over the roar of the engine, “how did you know that I dream about you?!”</p><p>Jason almost crashed his motorcycle into the wall of the base – cave – <strong>Batcave</strong> (<em>fuck, why was it catching on?!</em>), but managed to make a sharp turn at the very last second. He cursed under his breath; how could he have forgotten the manipulative menace was first and foremost <em>shameless</em>?!</p><p>He revved the engine up, vowing to never engage with Robin again.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <strike>Little Robin won’t allow anyone to insult his man.</strike>
</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A friendly remainder that English is not my native language and I’m aggressively European ☺️.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was easier said than done because in the days following the alien invasion Robin was freaking <em>omnipresent</em>. Red Hood could hardly step foot outside his safe house and not hear the trademark obnoxious laughter echo throughout the city, or see the colourful blur soar over the rooftops, or on one occasion he had yet to purge the memory off, walk right into the trap of his waiting arms.</p><p>Red Hood felt hunted. Yeah, that was what it really was – a goddamned hunt, with little Robin circling the skies like a hungry hawk, ready to swoop down and pounce on anything vaguely resembling a vengeful ex-Bat in red. And it forced Red Hood to play the role of a fleeing rodent which frankly, was fucking insulting. He was the top of the food chain predator, dammit, not some shameless twink running around in green pixie boots!</p><p>Worse still, the kid's relentless pursuit of his company was seriously messing up his daily operations. No way in hell he could wrestle back the control of the underworld from Black Mask when nervously looking over his shoulder for the sight of too much colour adorned with an impish grin, nor could he set his elaborate revenge plot in motion.</p><p>Something had to be done.</p><p>Red Hood pondered over the issue over a hot cup of camomile tea, aggressively munching on a biscuit. During his first attempt at epic vengeance, not once had he crossed paths with the kid, while now...well. What changed?</p><p>Well, petty crime rates did, seeing as a great number of common thugs joined the post-invasion rebuilding efforts and was thus too busy doing odd jobs on the honest spectrum to violate the law – but that was beside the point. After all, he had the displeasure to run into Robin <em>twice</em> even before an alien army showed their ugly mugs in Gotham <strike>and made fun of Red Hood</strike>.</p><p>Maybe the kid was out of the city when he goaded Black Mask into breaking Joker out of Arkham? Maybe a merry rooftop chase, sponsored by yours truly, shook the Bat so badly, he promptly shipped his precious menace off to be babysat by the Glorified Sidekick Club?</p><p>It was plausible, but Red Hood couldn’t help the feeling something else might have been behind Robin’s mysterious absence at that time. Something way simpler, wonderfully mundane and not at all connected to him.</p><p>Then it hit him. His return to Gotham, <em>twelve heads in the duffel bag</em>, all that spiel – it aligned itself perfectly with the final exams at Gotham Academy. A certain schoolboy going by the name of Richard Grayson was required to take those exams and Bruce, while doubtlessly as shitty a caretaker as always, evidently acquired the minimum amount of sense to head Timbo’s nagging and bar said schoolboy from patrolling during that time.</p><p><em>Fucking eureka</em>, Red Hood thought and he triumphally slammed his teacup down. Hot liquid spilt everywhere, but he didn't care, already hacking into the servers of his dearest alma mater, may it burn to ashes. In no time he was pulling out <em>Richard Grayson</em>'s academic records (straight As except for English, the savage!) and more importantly – his schedule for the autumn semester. He made quick work of cross-referencing it with his planner, et voila! Staring back at him was a string of dates, meticulously encircled in red when Robin was unlikely to patrol long hours if at all. Meaning, the days (and nights) when Red Hood could conduct his business without the threat of god awful pickup lines following him wherever he would go.</p><p>He leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head. His lips curled up in a smug smirk.</p><p>It was one-null for Red Hood.</p>
<hr/><p>He enjoyed his victory for maybe a month until one deceptively peaceful night fell and brought about a meeting with his youngest informant.</p><p>“And that’s all folks ‘round the docks have been sayin’,” the scruffy kid concluded his report with a loud sniff, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. If he had a decent home, he would probably be attending middle school but as he was a juvie escapee – much like Red Hood had once been – he made due out in the streets relying on his sharp ears and keen eyes.</p><p>With a curt nod, Red Hood handed him a twenty-dollar bill. Then, he considered his reddened nose paired with glassy eyes and offered him another banknote; though his intel wasn’t all that helpful, the kid could do with extra cash for cold medicines.</p><p>His informant quickly pocketed the money, but oddly enough, was in no hurry to leave. Instead, he tapped his foot, casting nervous glances around the empty flat, one of many in the run-down block at the Crime Alley.</p><p>It was very out of character for the kid to act so unsurely and Red Hood spent enough of his formative years out in the streets to smell a rat.</p><p>“Is there something else?” He demanded, his eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, he had a feeling it would piss him off.</p><p>The kid sniffed again. Red Hood briefly entertained the idea of offering him a tissue.</p><p>“I’ve...run into Robin.” His informant mumbled, staring at the soles in his shoes. “The Boy Wonder,” he rushed to add the superfluous title. His face brightened up with a smile that was full of – Red Hood had to do a double-take, not quite believing his eyes – <em>hero worship</em>?</p><p>“Huh,” he shared his witty remark, baffled as to why the menace would instil <em>hero worship</em> of all things in anyone, or why a representative of aforementioned <em>anyone</em>-demographic would feel the need to bring the matter up with him. And also wary, as that was his knee-jerk reaction to any mention of Robin these days. “When?”</p><p>“Um.” The kid squirmed. He refused to look him in the eye and wow, didn’t it raise a huge red flag in his mind. “Tonight.”</p><p><em>The fuck?!</em> Red Hood recoiled, quickly running Robin’s schedule through his mind. He was supposed to be out of the city on a school trip somewhere snobbish and expensive, getting pissed with his rich mates behind the teachers’ back, <strong><em>not</em></strong> skulking around in Gotham, <em>talking to his informants!</em></p><p>(Jason himself always bailed out of the school trips, but Jason was a Gotham Academy pariah and refused to suffer the entitled little shits any more than he absolutely had to. A shameless menace like Robin, though, surely <em>he</em> would love to be around them, wouldn’t he?)</p><p>“What did he want?” He hissed, his senses on high alert because the threat was real.</p><p>The kid sniffed. “He looked very sad… And he said he missed you. That he’d love to see you.”</p><p>Oooh yes, Red Hood could see Robin filling the ears of good Alley kids with this mushy shit.</p><p>“A-and then he asked me,” his informant thinly swallowed, stealing a nervous glance at him, “if I…knewwheretofindyou.” He rushed to spit out the words before his courage would leave him. He curled in on himself as he spoke, but come on, it's not like he had any reason to fear Red Hood, did he –?</p><p>Unless...</p><p>“The hell did you tell him?!” He roared. He pushed off the wall he had been resting against and rose to his full height, knowing full well his towering form was intimidating as fuck. So help him, <em>if the kid doesn't spit it out right now…!</em></p><p>His informant looked about ready to pass out of fright. “That you’d be here ‘round this time.”</p><p>Betrayal stung like a bitch slap to the face. “Ungrateful little bastard!” He growled enraged to cover up the fact that internally, he was lamenting <em>et tu, Brute?!</em> and dramatically falling to the floor, clutching his heart.</p><p>One of his own had sold him out.</p><p>“C'mon, Hood, he just wants to talk –” The kid tried to be reasonable but he didn’t care for his excuses. What he did care for was a pitter-patter of pixie boots running down the corridor, closing in on his present location at an alarming rate, and a bone-chilling youthful voice from hell calling, “<em>Red Hood!</em>”</p><p>“Shit!” He cursed, rage and betrayal quickly morphing into a panic, as he frantically searched for a possible escape route.</p><p>His eyes fell on the window.</p><p>“You gotta be kiddin' me,” the kid – no, not a good Alley kid anymore, <em>a fucking snitch!</em> – muttered under his breath, but he paid him no mind. He wrestled the window open and jumped on the windowsill just as the door to the flat banged on the wall, thrown open.</p><p>“No, wait –!” Robin reached out his hand for him the moment he burst into the room.</p><p>“Eat dirt, brat!” He snarled and jumped to his freedom.</p><p>If Red Hood thought that would be it, then the next five seconds proved him sorely mistaken as Robin jumped out right after him, and when he swung his grappler intent on taking to the rooftops – so did the menace.</p><p>“Why don't you go torment boys your age?!” He shouted over his shoulder, running for dear life through a wilted, sad attempt at a rooftop garden. “At that fancy school of yours!”</p><p>“Why would I want to go out with anyone in there?!” Robin sounded so honestly astounded at his very logical suggestion. Under other circumstances that reply might have raised his eyebrow but then and there, Red Hood wrote it off as cheeky on top of the regular obnoxious.</p><p>He jumped to another rooftop. With the corner of his eye, he noticed the old Bat taking his time, beating up a handful of Black Mask’s goons, while his sidekick ran around unchecked, terrorising people.  </p><p>“BAT!” He bellowed, making the whole group jump out of their skin. The old man looked around in confusion, then finally glanced up to gawk at his mad dash away from the menace. “For fuck's sake, DO SOMETHING USEFUL!” He couldn't afford to take a minute and savour the dumb look on his face, because Robin was hot on his heels, getting a run start to jump in his wake.</p><p>“ROBIN!” He heard the Bat embrace the role of disapproving parent. “What ON EARTH are you doing?!”</p><p>“A little busy here, boss!” The kid replied in a singsong voice, already mid-jump.</p><p>With a muttered curse, Red Hood ran faster, ready to swing himself to another building.</p><p>
  <em>Why the hell was the kid so fucking persistent?! </em>
</p><p>He risked a glance behind his shoulder just in time to see the Bat join them on the rooftop level, then spectacularly fail to catch the hem of Robin's cape.</p><p><em>No fucking way</em>, he thought, unsure whether to burst into hysteric laughter or to slap a hand over his face in dismay mixed with second-hand embarrassment, so instead he gave into mortification, because various Gotham scumbags in the streets below were already pointing their grubby fingers at them, and – <em>oh shit fuck, no</em> – taking out their phones to record big, bad Red Hood being chased by little Robin, being chased by grumpy Bat unable to control his unruly sidekick. His life had become an episode in the freaking <em>Benny Hill Show</em>, he lamented, fully aware that footage of this fiasco would inevitably end up on the social media with the Closing Chase theme put over, and by this time the following day, it would have gone viral with #OnlyinGotham trending on Twitter.</p><p>At least Alfred would find it funny.</p><p>“Robin!” The Bat shouted in a rather desperate attempt to exert his authority. “Stop antagonizing Jason!”</p><p>“Yeah!” Red Hood could now believe he was saying that, as he swung on his line to reach yet another building, “you listen to him, kid!”</p><p>“I’m not antagonizing him,” Robin huffed, shooting his grappler, and because the word <em>shame</em> did not exist in his dictionary, he topped his retort with a heartfelt and freakishly loud, “I LOVE HIM!”</p><p><em>Oh dear fuck</em>, Red Hood almost smashed nose-first into a gargoyle, barely making it to the ledge. Where the fuck did he put his best fake passport, he wondered with a growing sense hysteria, because evidently, it was high time he underwent plastic surgery and fled to South America.</p><p>(He would love to visit Argentina, he had never been there before.)</p><p>He ran along the ledge to the other side of the building, the pitter-patter of pixie boots never too far behind. He shot his grapnel blindly; once he felt it take, he swung on the line over another block of flats, to finally jump to the ground. Still mid-flight, he spotted familiar silhouettes of the homeless who had so expertly thrown Molotov's cocktails at the aliens. No sooner had his feet touched the ground, he dashed to their alleyway.</p><p>“Breathe a word and you die!” He threatened, waving his Glock as he jumped over their heads, and dived right into an overflowing dumpster. He enfolded himself with the trash bags, leaving only a tiny crack in between so that he could assess the situation.</p><p>Scarcely half a minute later, rosy-cheeked Robin came to halt in front of the shell-shocked, slack-jawed group of the homeless.</p><p>“Hi!” The kid beamed at them, dimples and all. “So sorry to disrupt your evening, gentlemen,” he squinted at someone seated deeper in the shadows, “<em>and ladies</em>, but did you happen to see Red Hood?”</p><p>He ground his teeth, tightening his grip on his gun. They better not snitch on him, too.</p><p>In perfect sync, the whole group shook their heads no.</p><p>Robin pouted.</p><p>Someone <em>aww</em>ed.</p><p>Someone else elbowed them in the ribs.</p><p>The pout intensified and now <em>aww</em>s were falling from all sides. Red Hood watched in disbelief as the hardened Alley folk melted into a puddle of menace-worshipping goo, and the more Robin’s lower lip quivered, the quicker their resolve crumbled.</p><p>“ROBIN!” The old Bat thundered, finally having caught up to them.</p><p>Ashamed as he was to admit it, Red Hood actually cheered a little at the sight of him and the disapproving downturn of his mouth. Uh-oh, someone was in deep trouble and for once, it wasn’t him.</p><p>“That’s it!” The Bat growled as he grabbed a hem of Robin’s cape and used it to drag the kid closer to his side. “We’re going home!”</p><p>“But -!” Robin protested, but the old man would not have any of that. In a practised motion that spoke of years of experience, he hefted the kid over his shoulder, his grip tight and unyielding. Seeing as he literally couldn’t wriggle his way out of this one, in a true teenager fashion Ghul and Timbo, and then Jason had mercifully spared the Bat, Robin grumbled, “<em>I hate you</em>.”</p><p>The Bat was visibly troubled by those words; he opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish taken out of the water, but eventually, he pressed his lips in a flat, unfeeling line. He nodded in the general direction of the dumpster and wordlessly strode away.</p><p>Heads turned to watch Red Hood rise from the sea of garbage <strike>like Aphrodite from the sea foam</strike> and throw away a half-rotten banana peel stuck to his helmet.</p><p>“You’re damn lucky the Bat showed up when he did,” he seethed, then marched away too.</p><p>Turning not only his informants but also the regular Crime Alley crowd against him, Robin evened the score at one-one.</p>
<hr/><p>Seeing as no one in this godforsaken hellhole of a city could be trusted not to snitch on him, Red Hood went completely underground. To get the necessary intel on daily and nightly goings-on in the city, he bugged the whole Gotham from down in the sewers all the way up to the mayor’s office. And since he was on the subject of sewers – he became intimately familiar with them, as he opted to move along the subterranean routes whenever he had to venture out of his safe house. Should the need to resurface, ah, <em>arise</em>, he would regretfully swap his leather jacket for a nondescript hoodie and practice stealth, furtively edging along the walls.</p><p>Despite the obvious inconveniences, he still managed to somewhat take care of the business and yes, he did realise he was being ridiculous, but what else was he supposed to do? Walk in the broad streetlight and risk bumping into the colourful pest <em>who claimed that he loved him?</em></p><p>Yeah, he didn’t think so.</p><p>Days passed and no blabbermouth saw neither hide nor hair of Red Hood. Robin was looking high and low for him, he knew from numerous recordings of his voice asking the Alley folks about him. But Red Hood could hide his tracks well and Robin, while admittedly a crafty, shameless contortionist menace, was also but a fifteen-year-old kid. All he stumbled upon were the trails gone cold, whispers of <em>yeah, Hood set Mask’s shipment on fire, but that was almost a week ago</em>.</p><p>(While no circumstances would ever be dire enough to make him admit it, he did feel bad for the kid when he sometimes spotted on CCTV-feed his small form perched on a gargoyle, looking wistfully into the cold December night. But then, he remembered the kid was a menace and a bane of his existence, and his heart hardened.)</p><p>At two-one, Red Hood was back in the lead.</p>
<hr/><p>Christmas neared while Red Hood enjoyed his charmed, Robin-less life, sabotaging Black Mask at every turn <strike>and frowning at Richard Grayson's worsening grades in English</strike>. But Robin, as it turned out, had not yet said his last word. No, he certainly had not.</p><p>“He avoids me like he’s Superman and I’m a pile of kryptonite.” The kid bemoaned to anyone who would listen – so basically, to every single person he ran into, and holy shit, did he meet a whole lot of people. Before Red Hood realised what was happening, he had already assembled a fucking legion of unlikely saps sympathetic to his plight. Thugs he helped put behind the bars were lending him their ear, shouting words of encouragement from a police car window as it drove away and working girls on the Alley ruffled his hair, cooing <em>you'll see, he'll come around</em> (no, he would not!), while drunkards kept giving Red Hood an evil eye and his very own informant, a juvie escapee spat out by the system, shook his head at him with disappointment.</p><p>Also, to Jason’s never-ending despair, the Red Hood’s kryptonite metaphor for Robin quickly caught on. Whenever he ventured out of his safehouse to show his helmet in the surface-level Gotham, nameless goons talked shit about going over to the Bat’s to borrow <em>the Hood-repellent</em>, some bastards going so far as too try the trick as old as time – <em>look, Hood, Robin’s behind you!</em></p><p>(He would hate himself forever for the one, ONE time he did fall for that.)</p><p>Performing any kind of operation in the city became impossible. Around the Boxing Day, he couldn’t even sit on a gargoyle and manly brood about being an unwanted fuckup, treated with scorn and despised, and <strong>not</strong> to have a random scumbag call him on his bullshit, jeering <em>boohoo, poor you, the sweetest kid in all of Gotham adores you!</em></p><p>And he knew it was his own damn fault. The thing between him and the menace would not escalate to his point, had he acted like a grown-ass man rather than an awkward adolescent, and faced Robin (and his crush) sometime after the alien invasion. But he loathed the idea of giving the kid even an inch, in fear of him taking a mile of cringe-worthy pickup lines or worse, <strike>mentions of choking kink</strike>, so with the score evened at two-two, they reached an impasse.</p><p>Then, Black Mask decided to poke his lack of nose into this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know, don't look at me 😂.</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fasten your seatbelts, folks. It's going to be a rollercoaster ride.</p><p>Warnings: Canon-typical violence, a major character in danger</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happened on New Year’s Eve.</p><p>The Waynes were busy rubbing shoulders with the rich and entitled at a snobbish gala they attended every year (Red Hood knew from dreadful experience) and the menace was most likely getting his cheeks pinched by the pretentious, old hags, who had once upon the time looked down their powdered noses at unfortunate Jason Todd (<em>I swear, what was your father thinking</em>, they made damn sure he could hear them as they flocked around Damian, <em>with <strong>that one</strong> around, better hide your family’s silvers!</em>).</p><p>Anyway, with the Waynes off pretending to have a noteworthy civilian life, Red Hood was free to ascend from the sewers to the surface-level Gotham. He had no activity scheduled for that night other than basking in the streetlight under the gloriously Bat-less sky, even as the city around him quickly descended to the jubilant kind of madness with the popping champagne corks more deadly than stray bullets and the firecracker smoke so thick in the air it veiled whole neighbourhoods in fog like it was nineteenth-century London.</p><p>Of course, the basking would have been much more enjoyable, had it not been for the good people of Gotham unable to resist calling him out on his simple joys in life, with the most creative jeer thus far being <em>when Robin’s away, Red Hood’s will play, amirite?!</em>, but IT WAS FINE. He could take it, even if his teeth for all the grinding probably couldn't for much longer, and while at it, he would also ensure no major shit goes down in the city. Yeah, he could totally do that, if only to rub in the Bat’s face how much more competent he was at keeping the scumbags in line, and <strong>not</strong> because he cared about this shithole! It would be nothing more than a passively hostile action against the Bat, woven into the intricate plot of his epic revenge. Yep, it was but a part of the plot.</p><p>That was how his New Year’s Eve had been up until an hour to midnight, when he found himself by the entrance to a certain back alley (<em>the Batmobile, the tires; ah memories</em>), taking a break with a lit cigarette in hand and his helmet tucked under his arm. He was breathing out a cloud of smoke, manly brooding about the days bygone (<em>the stick showed up Bat’s ass, Ghul’s and Drake’s eternal pissing contest</em>) while keeping one eye on the goings-on of the Crime Alley, and with that one eye he spied a group of four…no, five vaguely familiar goons eyeing him from across the street.</p><p>The lenses in his domino mask narrowed.</p><p>The goons were crowded in a tight-knit circle, every now and then throwing covert glances at him over their shoulders, not unlike shy kindergartner children unsure how to bring up an issue to their teacher, which was by no means a typical goon behaviour. Despite that hush-hush act, they were still so loud Red Hood could catch the hisses of <em>no, you talk to him!</em> as they showed each other, and yeah, weirder things had happened. But if mean-faced goons being shy raised eyebrows, then shy, mean-faced goons acting coy were far enough on the suspicious spectrum to call for action.</p><p>He crushed the cigarette under his boot.</p><p>He knew the second he was spotted strutting up to them, for the group at once flailed about in panic. Furious whispering took on a dramatic note as the showing each other became significantly more violent, only to abruptly cease no sooner than Red Hood had stopped in front of them.</p><p>“What.” He demanded, looking from one face frozen in a deer-in-the-headlights look to another.</p><p>Somewhere in the background, an angry hooker was beating up a stingy John with her purse.</p><p>“Well?” He urged.</p><p>The flailing started anew, this time resulting in four goons pushing the fifth one out of their circle, unanimously designating him the group’s spokesman. The guy stumbled but to his credit, he didn’t fall. Instead, he looked over his shoulder to throw some interesting choice of insults at his associates, then eventually turned back to maybe not so much face Red Hood as to fidget, staring down at his feet. Nervously rubbing his bald head, he eloquently said, “um.”</p><p>A car drove past them, with merry teenagers shooting rubbing bullets at the lamp posts.</p><p>“Care to elaborate on that?” Red Hood prompted when the silence after that opening statement stretched to the point of awkwardness.</p><p>The bald guy shuffled his feet, visibly gathering his courage. “So,” he said, stealing a wary glance at Red Hood’s masked face, then launched into an explanation that didn’t really explain anything at all. “We dunno what’s the deal with ya and the kid. And if ya don’t, I mean… If you’d rather not, then maybe, I dunno, ya could contact the Bats or somethin’? ‘Cause we sure as hell ain’t using the blasted Batsignal!” He ended his fumbled, nonsensical speech with that last, surprisingly fiery statement, backed up by the choirs of <em>yeah!</em> from his associates.</p><p>“The fuck are you talking about?” Red Hood was taken aback a little, because seriously, what the fuck.</p><p>(Also, what the hell was a Batsignal?!)</p><p>The bald guy rubbed his head again, before turning to his associates, uncertain.</p><p>“Doin’ great, buddy!” They cheered, giving him thumbs up. </p><p>Weirder things had happened, Red Hood told himself firmly, but whatever this shit was supposed to be, it was quickly rising through the ranks to the ten top most out-there stuff he had ever witnessed. </p><p>“And I mean…” The bald guy grasped for words.</p><p>Red Hood considered. Hadn’t he seen this one a few weeks ago, ruffling Robin’s hair before getting cuffed and escorted to a police car? In an aftermath of Batman and his shameless sidekick busting one of the Roman-fucking-Sionis operations?</p><p>Come to think of it, weren’t all these goons working for Black Mask?</p><p>Red Hood put a hand on the gun in his holster with half a mind to shoot them all in the faces right then and there, but before he could turn the intent into action, the bald guy appeared to have found his words.</p><p>“Black Mask’s a shitty boss, ya know?” He basically confirmed his suspicions, then went completely off the tangent with, “but what can ya do when no one else’s hiring?” that ended with an honest to god rant of, “for fuck’s sake, I got a kid to put through college!”</p><p>The goons behind him were nodding and grunting their agreement.</p><p>Red Hood lost the last piece of a clue on what the hell was happening in there.</p><p>“But I didn’t sign up for this shit!” The goon went on, unaware or uncaring of how weirded out Red Hood was getting. “Illegal trade? Intimidation? Roughin’ up the fucks late on their payment?” He counted on his fingers. “You know, honest goon job? Yeah sure, but not pimpin’ out a friggin’ kid!”</p><p>That sliced right through the confusion and got Red Hood’s attention. “What the fuck do you mean, <em>pimping out a kid?</em>” He snarled. Maybe he was the dangerous fuckup the Bats (<em>minus Robin</em>, his mind treacherously whispered) seemed to regard him as, but getting anyone, let alone a kid, into this kind of shit was a hard <strong>no</strong> even in his book. </p><p>The bald guy curled in on himself. He shied away from Red Hood’s furious gaze and stuttered, “w-what I...I mean to s-s-say is -”</p><p>“Black Mask got Robin.” One of the goons interjected.</p><p>A firecracker erupted, washing the street with red light – the same colour that swallowed Red Hood’s  vision as he roared, “WHAT?!”</p><p>The helmet fell to the ground with a loud <em>clunk! </em>of doom.</p><p>In a blink of an eye, the bald goon found himself kicking his feet uselessly, lifted off the ground then slammed against the wall by livid Red Hood. His associates were failing around them, shouting on top of each other, but none of them managed to pierce through the statics filling Red Hood’s ears as the fury that tasted like Pit madness heated his blood with the desire to <em>kill</em>.</p><p>“WHEN.” He growled, racking his brain <strike>why the hell he even cared</strike> how that was possible. Had the kid got kidnapped earlier in the day, the Bats would have been all over this shithole already, looking for their precious menace; seeing as they were still sipping champagne at the fucking gala, the kidnapping got to be a recent development, which again raised the question of <em>what the fuck</em>, since the kid was supposed to be at said fucking gala with them, getting his cheeks pinched!</p><p>“O-over an h-hour ago,” the bald goon wheezed.</p><p>“He was out on the patrol alone!”</p><p>“No other Bats in sight!” The other goons rushed to provide additional information.</p><p>So, what? Did he somehow sneak away from the boring event with the Bats none the wiser? Or did he beg off attending it in the first place, just like it seemed to be the case with that school trip weeks ago? What was it with this kid and the shying away from non-cape social interactions he so obviously ought to love?!</p><p>“Mask’s been meanin’ to get back at ya and the Bat,” one of the goons said, “but then he realised -”</p><p>“Some would pay a hefty price to back at Bat by offin’ his sidekick,” another goon cut right in, eager to add his five cents.</p><p>“A few sick fucks would pay even hotter cash to -” someone else jumped right in, his words hushed.</p><p>“Buy <em>quality time alone</em> with the kid,” yet another goon said, every syllable dripping with disapproval.</p><p>“- and for fuck’s sake, Robin’s same age as my kid!” The first one to offer additional explanation summed up what appeared to chafe at the conscience of the whole group.</p><p>“Yeah… W-what they’re s-sayin’.” The bald goon choked out, his face taking on a worryingly blue hue.</p><p>Red Hood let go of the man in favour of dragging a hand down his face. Robin was a menace, right? A fucking bane of his existence, RIGHT?! If Red Hood was a lesser man, it would have totally been within his right to shrug the kid’s predicament off and -</p><p>(<em>Then I am very lucky you’re not a lesser man, am I not?</em>)</p><p>He almost gave the goons a collective heart attack when he punched his fist through the brick wall.</p><p>He didn’t give a damn about Robin, okay?! He was worried that A KID was in the clutches of a fine example of a deranged scumbag this world would do nicely without; A KID, not the menace in particular!</p><p>“So, um...” the bald goon figuratively jumped out of his skin, when the fumbled attempt at talking made him a focus of Red Hood's bloodthirsty attention. “A-a-about gettin’ in touch w-with the Bats...”</p><p>Right, that. The menace was the Bat’s mess, so the Bat should be the one to clean it up. And yeah, sure Red Hood could get hold of the Bats somehow, either hacking their comms or just crashing the fucking gala with its fucking champagne flutes the fucking Bats were sipping at, sharing fucking lame jokes about fucking real estate or some other dumb shit, while Robin was being…!</p><p>But then again, what did he care, if the menace was preyed upon?! Because no one fucking did care when it was Red Hood being beaten up to death by Joker!</p><p>Besides, why in the goddamn hell should he even lift a finger for a...a <em>shameless twink</em> when Red Hood himself was planning to get back at the Bat by destroying EVERYTHING that the old man had ever held dear -!</p><p>(<em>Robin gentled his grin from obnoxious to adoring, whispering, “You're so cool, Hood!” then rested his head on his shoulder.</em>)</p><p>“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!” He roared like the sore loser that he was, enraged at seeing his resolve not to care crumble to fine dust. Yes, Robin was still a menace, and yes, Red Hood would give a kidney to get him off his back, and yes, he was still so incredibly salty at the Bat he couldn’t even, and yes, words couldn’t express how tempting it was to give in to the feelings of betrayal, the desire to just be fucking <em>petty</em>, but underneath all of that?</p><p>He didn’t want Robin to suffer.</p><p>“M-mister Re-red Hood?” The goons stuttered, terrified by his outburst. </p><p>“Lead the way.” He growled.</p><p>The goons shuffled nervously, exchanging worried looks.</p><p>“To Black Mask,” he clarified and put his helmet back on with a sense of finality that marked the aforementioned fucker more clearly than a thousand world a dead man walking. “I will deal with that stinking pile of shit myself.”</p><p>No one, fucking no one would hurt <strike>Robin</strike> A KID on his watch.</p>
<hr/><p>What happened next many would refer to as the Bloody New Year’s of Gotham Bay or The Winter Coming For House Sionis, or that one time Red Hood went batshit crazy (<em>batshit</em>, thugs would guffaw at the pun, <em>as in <strong>BAT</strong>shit, you get it?</em>), or – by those more academically inclined – a textbook example of carnage.</p><p>Red Hood didn’t know he was making history at that time, though. He let the Pit-fuelled rage paint the world red and cleanse him of whatever it was gnawing at him, and poke way awake an ugly voice in the back of his head <strike>(was it always there or did the Pit make him rabid?)</strike>. That voice didn’t give a flying fuck about changing the game; or the bigger Gotham picture; or guns falling to the ground left, right and centre; or the stampede the frantic retreat of the goons on duty had turned into.</p><p>It wanted to see one asshole <em>bleed</em>.</p><p>He kicked another door open. The creepiest fuckers in existence were popping off the huge screen as if they couldn’t leave their conference call with Black Mask fast enough. Oh, and the scum of the Earth himself was there too, with a long-winded, villainous speech ready on his lips. It opened with <em>huh, you’re not Batman</em> and Red Hood cared so little about the rest, he was shooting at him one sentence in.</p><p>The last goons on the premises were leaving the place like rats on a sinking ship. Storming his way through the warehouse in the opposite direction, Red Hood reached a room in the back of the building. The heavy door fell down to the floor and guns were ready in both his hands – but it had been abandoned in haste with only Robin left alone in there. Seeing him tied to a chair but seemingly unharmed and as clothed as he had always been, thank fuck, he felt like he could breathe again.</p><p>*</p><p>“Hey,” Red Hood tried to sound less rough than usual as he strode closer to the kid, in case he was traumatised or something. He removed his gag, then cut the ropes binding him. “Are you okay -”</p><p>“My hero!” Robin leapt into his arms, successfully knocking the air out of his lungs. “I knew you would come to my rescue!” He gushed, the emotion heavy in his voice and his accent thick.</p><p><em>Can’t be too traumatised, if he’s this obnoxious</em>, Red Hood thought dryly, definitely <strong><em>not</em></strong> breathing a relieved sigh, no sire, nope. No relief was felt on his side, for it would suggest he had been worried about the kid’s well-being in the first place. For which he was worried not and would fight anyone who dared to suggest otherwise.</p><p>Okay, he had been a tiny teeny bit worried but he would take this secret with him to his next grave.</p><p>Robin threw his arms around his neck and because the universe was a terrible, horrible place that punished good deeds, right at that moment his wristwatch beeped as it struck midnight. The kid gasped and before Red Hood could so much as blink, the side of his helmet was smothered with an overenthusiastic smooch. It was cringeworthy and soul-destroying, and Red Hood only allowed that because there was a small tremor hidden behind Robin’s obnoxious smile.</p><p>Even if not traumatised, the kid wasn’t as blasé about the kidnapping as he was willing to let on.</p><p>“But on the off chance that you wouldn’t, though,” Robin reluctantly said, once he was done abusing his helmet. His cheeks heated with a blush, as if ashamed about his words, which was just – <em>wow</em>.</p><p>Wow, because NOW Robin was embarrassed. Now, when mentioning very valid doubts, admitting that for a second there he had questioned whatever fucked up image of him he had in his mind, but not when spurting godawful pickup lines or bringing up the choking kink, <em>the fuck</em>.</p><p>(Also, if the kid in his delusion thought him <em>a knight in shining armour</em>, then Red Hood didn't want to live on this planet anymore.)</p><p>“I have just used my buzzer.”</p><p>“Buzzer?” He frowned, trying to delicately detach Robin from his side to set him down on the floor. The kid, however, held on even tighter and sneaked one grabby hand under his jacket. “What buzzer?”</p><p>“Um,” the kid said, not quite meeting his eyes<strike>, but very much still groping his pectorals</strike>. “A <em>sidekick-in-trouble</em> buzzer. If used, it lets every Justice League member know we’re in a dire need of backup. Send them our location.” He fell silent for a second, then continued in a smaller voice, “Batman made it after you, um. What happened to you.”</p><p>…Huh.</p><p>Red Hood had honestly no idea how to feel about it. As in – seriously, how. What, validated? That the Bat felt guilty enough about his most problematic sidekick’s untimely passing to at least <em>make a buzzer?</em> Honoured, that his legacy – what fucking legacy – lived on? Pissed off at the Bat for recruiting another child soldier to die in his crusade? Fucking livid, that he would crap some half-assed measures but not punish the murderer?</p><p>(Sheepish, because what the hell Red Hood was doing, running to the rescue of the Bat’s sidekick? Especially, when the kid would have been fine without his help?)</p><p>“Wait,” he said, startled back to the present once a very down-to-earth realisation that managed to pierce through the layers of emotional turmoil to the forefront of his mind. “If this buzzer sends your location to the Justice League’s members, does that mean -”</p><p>He didn’t get to finish his sentence.</p><p>A part of the warehouse wall exploded as a certain mighty, well-meaning (and unwelcome in Gotham, unless specifically stated otherwise) alien made a dramatic entrance, billowing red cape and all.</p><p>“Don’t worry, little Robin!” He called, striking the same heroic pose Red Hood had seen the kid doing his best trying to copy. “Superman came to the res…cue?” The cape flopped down when the man of steel saw no Black Mask, no goons and the kid already fried from the binds, safe and sound.</p><p>“Aw, thank you!” Robin quickly hid whatever unease he still felt behind a smile so blinding Red Hood had to squint. “But don’t worry,” he nestled further in his hold, “Red Hood’s got me.”</p><p>Now that the one-alien-person cavalry had arrived, Red Hood would mind not being in the state of getting him anymore, but the kid just. Wouldn’t. Budge.</p><p>Superman blinked at him, acting as if he had just noticed his silent presence, “oh my! So it’s true!” He gasped. “You’re alive!”</p><p>“Duh.” Underneath his helmet, Red Hood rolled his eyes. Come on, like Jason Todd's alive status was news to Superman! Red Hood was perfectly aware the Bat, quite the blabbermouth for a brooding old fuck, told him all about the failed revenge plot during one of their little <em>not-a-date</em>s, over a cup of coffee the Bat insisted he would pay for.</p><p>He wanted to make a scratchy remark to that effect but twin red smudges chose that moment to make an appearance.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Robin!” Lack of originality in opening lines and sidekick names seemed to be an ailment all of Justice League suffered from, as Flash – accompanied by Kid Flash – entered the scene in the similar fashion to Superman two minutes ago. “We’re…here?” And just like the man of steel, Flash floundered at the sight of Robin milking his <em>damsel in distress</em> moment for all its worth.</p><p>“We’ve been beaten up to rescuing Robin, it would seem.” Flash laughed good-naturedly, but the tension in the corners of his mouth suggested Red Hood’s presence made him warry. That, or he suffered from second-hand embarrassment at the side of once a problematic sidekick kept hostage in Robin’s octopus slash koala hug.</p><p>“Rob!” The sidekick at Flash’s side gasped and asked in a whisper heard on the other side of the known universe, “<em>is that your boyfriend?!</em>”</p><p>Everything was silent, everything was still.</p><p>Then, last remnants of sense evaporated and what was left spiralled out of control.</p><p>“<em>WHAT?</em>” Red Hood choked out, unsure whether to be more incredulous or outraged at the mere suggestion.</p><p>“You have a boyfriend, Robin?” Superman looked between the sidekicks, surprised.</p><p>“Isn’t Red Hood a bit too old for you?” Flash interjected, his expression troubled.</p><p>The kid blushed, sneaking his hands up to lace his fingers around Red Hood’s neck again. “We haven’t been on our first date yet.” He announced what Red Hood couldn’t help but notice <em>was <strong>not</strong></em> a frantic rebuttal of the ludicrous allegation.</p><p>Oh, the betrayal! And to think he naively hoped the kid would be less of a menace, now that they had shared a pickup line-free moment!</p><p>“<em>Ooooh,</em>” Kid Flash’ mischievous grin was second only to Robin’s in its obnoxiousness. “Are you guys waiting until you hit sixteen?” He asked Robin, no doubt suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, and what the hell was wrong with kids these days?!</p><p>“<em>I am not his boyfriend!</em>” Red Hood growled.</p><p>Everyone ignored him.</p><p>“Well,” Superman rubbed his chin as he rationalized, “five year age difference won’t matter much once Robin gets to his twenties.”</p><p>“Hmmm,” Flash considered, “I suppose -”</p><p>Whatever it was he supposed, remained a mystery, for running in through the hole in the wall was Wonder Woman, right on time to join the unfolding tragicomedy.</p><p>“I have arrived…!” She froze in a heroic pose, with her sword raised and the whip ready to strike. “Oh,” she deflated, taking in the scene in front of her. “I see I missed all the action.”</p><p>“And the fact that Robin got himself <em>a boyfriend</em>.” Flash very unhelpfully gestured at Red Hood.</p><p>“Red Hood is Robin’s boyfriend?!” She gasped.</p><p>“<em>No, I am not!</em>” He fervently denied, painfully aware that Robin’s hands clasped around his neck weren’t helping his case.</p><p>“I worry,” Wonder Woman frowned. “Does Batman know about this?”</p><p>Speaking of the devil…</p><p>“Robin!” Batman stormed into the room, flanked by Ghul and Bat Lad. With their weapons drawn, their forms were tense and the craziness was evident in faces. The trio was ready to deal with more gruesome horrors of heaven and earth than those dreamt of in their philosophy.</p><p>…Though perhaps not with the impromptu Justice League social meeting, featuring a grotesque rough-and-tumble between exasperated Red Hood and Robin’s grabby hands, hence the slack jaw syndrome they exhibited as soon as they got their bearings.</p><p>“Oh, hey Bats!” Superman led the choir of greetings.</p><p>“Batman,” Wonder Woman was all business, “were you aware your youngest charge is seeing Red Hood?”</p><p>“<strong>NOOOOOO!</strong>” Red Hood howled, at his wits’ end.</p><p>That at last got everyone’s attention. Heroes and sidekicks, masked and bare-faced, turned to stare at him in the apprehension of the <em>did he finally lost it or not just yet</em> kind.</p><p>“<strong>For fuck’s sake and <em>the hundredth time</em>, I AM NOT HIS BOYFRIEND</strong>!”</p><p>Robin pouted.</p><p>Superman cooed.</p><p>Ghul slapped a hand over his face.</p><p>“And you!” Red Hood roared, turning to the Bat. “If you can’t control him,” he marched towards him, not unlike the first time he had the misfortune to meet the menace. The old man wasted no time extracting his very unhappy sidekick from Red Hood, with the help of stone-faced Ghul.“Then keep him on a goddamn leash or something!” He sneered and made to dramatically storm out.</p><p>Robin perked up. “Is that something you are into?” He called after Red Hood, wriggling in the Bat’s and Ghul’s joint hold. “I wouldn’t mind if the collar’s a little tight!”</p><p>Red Hood's scandalised splutter was lost in the sea of equally scandalised gasps, chastisements and one wolf whistle, courtesy of Flash’ gremlin of a sidekick for sure. And Red Hood was done. So fucking done, unable and unwilling to deal with <em>that</em> on top of all the epiphanies and revelations, and mortifications the night had brought him. At this point, he just wanted his comfy chair, his camomile tea and not to take a part in this shitshow anymore, so he gave the assembled heroes his regards by flashing them a finger and fled through the Superman-shaped hole to the streets of Gotham.</p><p>*</p><p>Unbeknownst to him, between the champagne and the fireworks, Gotham was already abuzz with rumours.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something changed after that, deeply and profoundly. It was made abundantly clear to Jason when he was shocked awake from uneasy slumber by his cell phone ringing mercilessly at the stupidly early hour on January the second.</p><p>“Fuck, shit!” He cursed with a feeling, frantically patting around his bedding for the device. Blankets were flying to the side, pillows were falling to the floor, yet the blasted device remained elusive - despite so obviously being <em>there </em>somewhere and blasting a shrill tune that drilled itself through his brain.</p><p>Jason had to find the goddamn thing and <em>make it shut up</em>.</p><p>His fingers touched cold metal which upon closer inspection turned out to be a gun. He shoved it away to join with the pile of emergency weapons just dug out from between the sheets before his sleep-addled brain supplied a brilliant idea to maybe check on the nightstand. The alarm clock got knocked down, another victim of his searching frenzy. Red numbers were glowing at him accusingly from the floor, forming themselves into a string of four, three and zero.</p><p>Four thirty.</p><p>It was FOUR FUCKING THIRTY in the GODDAMN MORNING. Jason liked to be up early but this? Waking a guy up before five? This shit was fucking <em>immoral</em> is what it was, and it was coming from him, <em>the</em> Red Hood, he who beheaded twelve thugs in two hours. Virtually no one alive had his number, <em>so who in the nine circles of hell was this sick bastard calling him now?! </em></p><p>Finally, his hand fell on a vaguely cell phone-shaped object. With half a mind to just chuck the piece of junk at the wall, he flipped it over to squint at the screen.</p><p>Unknown number. Because of fucking course.</p><p>“WHAT.” He demanded the second he answered the phone. The word was packed with so much hatred, so many promises of bloody retribution, it was almost bursting at the seams into an unintelligible growl. </p><p>“<em>Hello, Red Hood!</em>” A jovial voice buzzed in his ear, way too much <em>everything</em> at four goddamn thirty. “<em>How are you?</em>” Mister Unknown Number was making a conversation, not put off in the slightest by the less than cordial greeting, in a way that was oddly reminiscent of...</p><p>“...Superman?” Heavily laden with scepticism, the question tore itself through the layers upon layers of suspicion mixed with incredulity because…what? How? <em>Why?</em> In what universe did bloody Superman calling him before the crack of dawn made any kind of sense? Because sure as heaven and hell, and purgatory in between, NOT in this one.</p><p>“<em>Why, yes. Indeed, it is I,</em>” the demigod alien slash the Bat’s platonic man-crush confirmed with a good-natured chuckle like he wasn’t leading Jason by the hand to the existential crisis. “<em>I trust you’re not busy right now?</em>”</p><p>“How did you get this number?” Jason hissed, having resolved not to court insanity by sticking with the most basic questions.</p><p>“<em>Robin gave it to me.</em>”</p><p>Oh, okay.</p><p>
  <em>…WHAT?!</em>
</p><p>“What?!” Suddenly much more awake, Jason let himself embrace his freak-out. “How did HE get my number?!”</p><p>“<em>Uh</em>.” Superman sounded much more hesitant and definitely less jovial as he said, “<em>I assumed you gave it to him…?</em>”</p><p>“<strong>I did no such thing!</strong>” Jason stressed, honest to God insulted by that preposterous claim.</p><p>Superman ignored him. “<em>It certainly wouldn’t be strange, given the nature of your relationship -</em>”</p><p>“WE DO NOT HAVE A RELATIONSHIP!” Jason bellowed with the most awful sense of déjà vu. It was shaping up to be an encore of the New Year’s Eve fiasco, wasn’t it? Shit no, he hadn’t even yet started working through <em>that</em> trauma, he didn’t need the second helping of it!</p><p>“<em>Right</em>,” Superman didn’t sound like he believed him, nor like he wanted to continue that particular line of conversation. “<em>Anyway, I've been helping Loise Lane with her journalist investigation.</em>” He remarked like that piece of information was in any way, shape or form vital to Jason at stupid o'clock. Despite his best efforts, Jason could not find it in himself to give a single fuck.</p><p>Undeterred by his ominous silence, Superman went on. “<em>We are onto something much bigger than we have expected. So now we find ourselves in</em> <em>need of assistance from a trained detective with resources</em>.” Superman concluded, emphasizing the word <em>detective</em>.</p><p>“…And you’re calling <em>me,</em>” Jason said once he figured out that was his cue to make some sort of a comment, a full minute of awkward silence later.</p><p>“<em>You did work with Batman on many cases -</em>”</p><p>“Why don’t you ask the Bat himself?” Jason frowned, sensing bullshit. Because, c'mon. Why in the fuck would Superman choose him over his buddy-buddy world's best detective? Jason seriously doubted the man even remembered his old sidekick alias. They had never really interacted, not that Jason wished they had. The innocent farm boy thrust into the decadence of the city-vibe that Superman had going on always made Jason with his Crime Alley upbringing feel somewhat uncomfortable.</p><p>“<em>I-I…</em>” Superman stuttered. Jason felt his eyebrows raise. “<em>I can’t do that,</em>” Superman whispered as if sharing an embarrassing secret. “<em>If I did, he would win.</em>”</p><p>“...Right,” Jason parroted the Superman from two minutes ago, kind of sorry he had asked. The technicalities of whatever fucked up dynamic these two had, were not something he wished to be privy about. He could sympathise, however, with the violent revulsion at a mere suggestion of asking the Bat for anything at all. Personally, Jason would rather eat a crowbar.  “How about Ghul, then?” He offered, leaning down to pick up his pillows.</p><p>“<em>NO!</em>” Superman gasped in honest to God horror. “<em>I mean…</em>” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “<em>I’m sure he would tell Batman right away.</em>”</p><p>Oookay. Jason would be merciful and not laugh his ass off, but only because this charming little conversation was a rather surreal experience to begin with. “Timbo?” He grimaced in distaste, a Pavlovian response to the mention of his name. Still, the asshole possessed supposedly superior investigative skills - a fact he had yet to shut up about, seeing as they were one thing he could lord over Ghul in their eternal pissing contest.</p><p>Superman hesitated. <em>“He is…<strong>uh</strong></em>.”</p><p>Yeah, <em>uh</em> was one way to put it, alright.</p><p>“Say,” Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. “Whatever gave you the idea I would go outta my way to help a fucking Cape?” And not just any cape. It was Superman he was talking to, so the Capest Cape of them all.</p><p>“<em>Robin said you would.</em>”</p><p>Fucking <em>figures</em>.</p><p>“And you believed him?” He sneered, picking up his alarm clock. Innocent farm boy or not, Jason could not fathom how anyone would be gullible enough to just take the menace and his bullshit on the face value.</p><p>“<em>He also said you’re an honourable man</em>.”</p><p>“And you believed THAT?!” Jason demanded, because holy shit, an outrageous claim.</p><p>“<em>Little Robin is an excellent judge of character,</em>” Superman was quick to defend the menace. “<em>I can only hope he holds me as well in such high regard.</em>”</p><p>...The fuck?</p><p>Like, was Superman the taking piss right now? Did he even know the meaning of the words coming from his mouth…? Jason actually pinched himself, driven by his slack-jawed disbelief, because there was no way he had heard that right, was there? Not unless he unwittingly crossed over to the upside-down or some other shit, since the pain in his arm had just ruled out the possibility of this being some sort of a lucid dream brought about by the leftover mac-and-cheese he had gorged himself on right before going to bed.</p><p>“<em>So, will you help me?</em>” Superman asked in a small voice, so unbefitting of the mighty Kryptonian. “<em>Robin said you would.</em>”</p><p>And the thing was, Jason so very much wanted to say HELL NO, just to be contrary. But then he thought about Robin – that is, the menace, he corrected himself. He thought about how saddened the disappointment would make him. How much thicker the emotion would make his accent when he finally saw past his delusions (<em>then I am very lucky you’re not a lesser man, am I not?</em>) and called Jason out on being the miserable fuckup worthy of the title of Batman’s Biggest Failure.</p><p>Jason ground his teeth. Robin’s lips would quiver, he just knew. They would quiver, but the menace would not cry, so to show in Jason’s face how fucking brave he was while putting an Oscar-worthy performance of being heartbroken – and now Jason was getting seriously pissed off, because what did he care what the menace thought or felt?! He didn’t ask the kid to hold him in any kind of regard!  Who the hell Robin thought he was anyway, making Jason feel like an asshole for maybe, hypothetically making him cry?! A harsh reality check would only serve the kid right and ensure he would never again go around saying shit like -</p><p>
  <em>(Robin gentled his grin from obnoxious to adoring, whispering, “you’re so cool, Hood!”)</em>
</p><p>“God-fucking-dammit!” Jason set the alarm clock on the nightstand with way too much force than necessary. Red numbers on the display flickered, then died. “Okay, FINE. I’ll leave in ten minutes.”</p>
<hr/><p>Late at night a couple of days later, Red Hood made what felt like the prodigal son’s return to Gotham. Having done the good deed for the Kansas farm boy and his heteronormative paramour, he felt dirty somehow. Like he had sullied himself and the home-made apple pie with a bottle of unskimmed milk Superman forced upon were a scarlet letter upon his chest.</p><p>By the time Red Hood stumbled to his safe house, he just wanted to get into the shower and scrub himself <em>raw</em> of any association with the goody-two-shoes.</p><p>Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.</p><p>He was just kicking off his boots when his comms randomly flared to live.</p><p>“<em>I’m on my way, over</em>.” Timbo’s haughty drawl drilled in his ear. Startled, Red Hood stumbled over his feet and almost fell on his face.</p><p>“<em>I am on my way, too,</em>” Ghul chimed in.</p><p>What in the fresh hell?</p><p>Why was he picking these two assholes’ charming little chat? Red Hood knew for a fact he hadn’t bugged any of the Bats and neither was he actively trying to hack their encrypted transmission, so it <em>shouldn’t be fucking possible!</em></p><p>He set the burdens of Superman’s gratitude on the counter and made quick work of taking off his helmet. His brows set in a murderous scowl, he tore the earbud out of his ear.</p><p>“<em>No need, Ghul, I said </em>I<em> would be his backup!</em>” The thing buzzed between his fingers, not intimidated by his murderous glare in the slightest. </p><p>(Could it be that…a seed of suspicion fell on the fertile soil of his freaked out mind. But no, Robin wouldn't.</p><p><strike>Except that Red Hood could totally see the menace fucking with his comms.</strike>)</p><p>“<em>And we all know how much good that will do.</em>” Ghul snorted.</p><p>Since there was no immediate answer to the malfunctioning comms mystery, Red Hood put the earbud back in his ear. At least Ghul and Timbo one-upping each other held a certain entertainment value, now that he wasn't caught in the cross-fire.</p><p><em>“It’s a maniacal bomber and a hostage situation we are dealing with here, Timothy, not a tea party at your chess club.</em>”</p><p>Timbo spluttered. “<em>I’ll have you know I -!</em>”</p><p>“<em>Enough!</em>” The old Bat cut in.</p><p>Red Hood cut himself a piece of the apple pie.</p><p>“<em>You will both come here. Drake, I need your help locating the bombs. Ghul, Robin needs your backup. He’s infiltrating the building as we speak. Questions?</em>”</p><p>“Yeah,” Red Hood said around the mouthful of the pie. “Why the fuck am I on this call?”</p><p>Three, two, one...</p><p>“<em>Jason?!</em>” The Bat choked out.</p><p>“<em>Red Hood?!</em>” Ghul demanded.</p><p>“<em>Street Rat?!</em>” Timbo freaked out.</p><p>“<em>How -?!</em>” The Bat’s jaw went slack.</p><p>“<em>…on Earth -?!</em>” Ghul was raving.</p><p>“<em>…you think you -?!</em>” Timbo seethed.</p><p>And the cacophony of three voices concluded in the harmony of admonishing, “<strong><em>ROBIN</em></strong>.”</p><p>Of course, Red Hood was torn between punching the wall in frustration and a long-suffering sigh. Who fucking else. Why had he ever doubted it.</p><p>“<em>Ooooh, it’s so dark and scary in here!</em>”</p><p>“<em>The electricity hasn’t been cut off at the site.</em>” Ghul’s voice was drier than the sandpaper left in the sun on the Sahara. </p><p>“...<em>Well, what do you want me to say?</em>” Since the little menace apparently had no clever riposte for that, he went for sulking instead. Red Hood could not believe the audacity of this kid.</p><p>“<em>How about, </em>why<em> in the name of all that is holy would you hack Todd’s comms?!</em>” Timbo suggested, his teeth no doubt clenched.</p><p>“<em>We need an expert on explosives, you said so yourself, Timmy.</em>” The kid pointed out. The indignant Timbo noises fell silent. “<em>Besides, Red Hood loves Gotham, so he would not stand for seeing the city destroyed and so many people killed. He is too honourable for that</em>.” Robin stated with so much baseless yet unshakable confidence that no one really knew what to say to that. Red Hood personally was experiencing too strong a cringe reaction <strike>(mixed with what shamefully felt like being flattered)</strike> to articulate a single word of protest.</p><p>“<em>Whatever.</em>” Timbo broke the impasse with a sneer. “<em>Over and out.</em>”</p><p>Red Hood blinked. What?</p><p>“<em>Bring the rubber bullets, Todd,</em>” Ghul instructed. “<em>Over and out.</em>”</p><p>Wait one goddamn second, just what kind of shit was going down right now? Why weren’t they calling out Robin’s honourable spiel for the bullshit it so obviously was? Needed Red Hood to remind them he was the wicked villain here? Twelve heads in the duffel bag, <em>hello?!</em></p><p>Superman being all chummy with him could still be written off as a goddamn fluke, maybe a side-effect of Superboy or Flash fucking with the time, BUT THE BAT?!</p><p>“<em>I’m sending you the details on your phone, H</em><em>ood!</em>” True to the menace's words the shitty thing buzzed in his pocket.</p><p>“Hey, I didn't -!”</p><p>“<em>I knew we could count on you,</em>” Robin cut right in, his voice practically overflowing with adoration.</p><p>For reasons unknown it made Red Hood's throat feel curiously tight.</p><p>“<em>Over and out!</em>” The menace cheered and his comms went silent.</p><p>“<em>Jason</em>.” The Bat said. The very man Red Hood was supposed to be talking bloody revenge on. What went wrong? How did his life had come to this?!</p><p>Red Hood felt like crying.</p><p>“<em>I’m not sure how I feel about this…thing between you and Robin.</em>”</p><p>“NOTHING,” Red Hood stressed. “There's nothing between me and your goddamn menace!”</p><p>The Bat ignored him. “<em>But, could you talk with him sometime? He's failing English and he won't tell any of us -</em>”</p><p>Red Hood turned off his comms.</p><p>He did put his boots back on, though, and he swore like a sailor when stormed out of his safe house with the cell phone in hand, because the little menace got at least one fact straight.</p><p>Red Hood did not fancy some maniacal bomber running around HIS city unchecked.</p>
<hr/><p>Now after <em>that</em> debacle Red Hood didn’t feel like he had merely sullied himself. No, he felt like he had been violently defiled. All the more so, because Commissioner Gordon could not keep his damn mouth shut; he had to go fucking credit him during a press conference on the maniacal bomber incident. That, in turn, inspired Loise-freaking-Lane to throw his name in her article right, left and centre, so seemingly overnight Red Hood’s recent team-up with both Superman and the Bats tragically became a matter of public knowledge.</p><p><em>But what’s the harm in that</em>, Superman innocently argued, the poor, simple bastard, when Red Hood threw verbal abuse at him over that. And well, the harm was that every stroll down the Crime Alley would now be Red Hood’s personal walk of shame from hell with the self-respecting Gotham criminals spitting at his feet for the equivalent of whoring himself out, no offence to the hard-working ladies in the streets. The harm was that people seemed to have forgotten Red Hood was to be feared, not called <em>mellowed down by his <strong>special friend</strong></em> (he point-blank shot anyone who said Robin was his boyfriend) or spammed by Wonder Woman unable to track stolen Themyscira heirlooms by herself. So yeah, there had been a lot of fucking harm done, not that goddamn Superman any sympathy for his plight.</p><p>Worse still, the mass delusion that he and Robin had – he shuddered to say – <em>got together</em> on the New Year’s Eve only lent credibility to the menace and his words in the eyes of gullible public, and...holy fuck, the sheer bullshit that kid was spreading! Whatever nefarious action Red Hood was up to in the following weeks, Robin would twist it beyond recognition into a sappy fairy-tale that painted him – HIM – as a tragic hero of the people or some shit, a knight in shiny armour on a fucking rainbow unicorn. As a result, there was not a single day when he would not get a teary message from an extended Cape community member in need of a detective’s help but too <em>something </em>to ask any of the Bats. And if it wasn’t a fucking Cape accosting him, then it was a vegan thug or a breadwinner henchman cornering him in a shadowy alleyway with their cover letters out, as they sought employment with an <em>ethical mob boss</em>, whatever the fuck that even meant.</p><p>It was February already when Red Hood made one last valiant attempt to wrestle back the control of his narrative, by the virtue of messing up Black Mask’s latest shipment. Purely for his own selfish, not at all altruistic reasons, he stole the guns, blew up the Amazo 2.0 and cruelly kicked a pair of trafficked mermaids into the polluted waters of Gotham Bay - only to see the menace give his comments regarding the mayhem in the docs on the channel four news the following night. Red Hood felt his face burn as he watched the kid gush about self-sacrificing efforts, solidarity with merpeople and world peace. And that wasn’t even the end of it, <em>noooo</em>. To his ever-growing horror, that channel four fiasco snowballed into Aquaman calling for a press conference to deliver the now infamous <em>I thank thee, Red Hood!</em> For the whole world to hear and the Crime Alley to mercilessly mock.</p><p>When Aquaman’s words became a meme, Red Hood was sure he had hit the rock bottom.</p><p>*</p><p>He was wrong, of course.</p>
<hr/><p>“Mister Red Hood?”</p><p>Red Hood snapped out of his furious chain-smoking at a small, childish voice and a slight tug on his trousers. He looked around, momentarily disoriented, before checking down to see a little kid, a five-year-old tops, holding hands with an older girl, perhaps his sister. Both were staring up at him expectantly, eyes shining with hope.</p><p>Taken aback, Red Hood silently stared back at them.</p><p>“Mister Red Hood?” The kid tugged at his trousers again. “Our kitten climbed that tree and now he can’t get down.”</p><p>Like in a dream, he turned his head to see where the kid was pointing. A fluffy white kitten meowed at him miserably from the highest branch of a shrivelled old tree.</p><p>...This was not fucking happening.</p><p>“Will you help, Mister?” There was a tearful note in the kid's voice now, accompanied by a highly suggestive sniff from the girl. “Robin the Boy Wonder said you would help.”</p><p>“Did he now.” Red Hood hissed through the clenched teeth. He didn’t want to take out his well of frustration on those kids, but oh dear fuck, it was a struggle.</p><p>They both nodded. “He said Mister Red Hood is nice and he’s kind, and he’s strong and he’s -”</p><p>But Red Hood could hear him no more. With every adjective the kid threw, the pulsing in his ears grew louder and louder, drowning out any other sound. The world narrowed down to one point of focus – the cigarette he dropped to the ground, then viciously smashed with a boot.</p><p>His mind was eerily calm, not unlike the mind of the storm, when he realised – that was it. That was him hitting rock bottom and the camel’s back being broken. The line had been right there and it was fucking <em>crossed</em>. Too long Red Hood allowed Robin’s bullshit to reign supreme. Little menace better hide behind the Bat’s cape or Damian’s cloak, or Timbo’s self-importance, for the time has come for the prey to become a hunter, and the two of them – him and Robin – were about to have a little chat.</p><p>*</p><p>But first, he did help the kitten get down.</p><p>“I thank thee, Red Hood!” The kid called after him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know, don't look at me 😭.</p><p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For all his omnipresence, Robin was surprisingly difficult to find. Red Hood wasted a good hour prowling the rooftops not to catch a single glimpse of the signature, colour-blind outfit, and his murder strut through the surface-level Gotham only got him roped into helping a wizened granny across the street who<em> I thank thee</em>d him for his troubles.</p><p>Once his fruitless search hit the two-hour mark, Jason had to face reality. He could either give up, going back to his safe house with his tail between his legs as if him taking down half the Black Mask's henchmen on the New Year's Eve had not been dubbed the <em>Winter Coming For House Sionis</em>…Or he could swallow sad remains of his pride, force his jaw unclenched and seek the counsel of the all-seeing eyes of Gotham – so, the street rats and hookers. In other words, he had to make a choice that actually was no choice at all, because Red Hood was fucking invested now in his crusade to make Robin shut the hell up.</p><p>Unfortunately, that meant suffering through the humiliation of the Alley kids – or should he say unhelpful little shits – with their sing-song of <em>Red Hood and Robin sitting in a tree</em>. Not to mention the absolute trauma of the working girls (and a couple of lads too) who in the fit of giggles were saying shit like <em>playing cat and mouse with your boy? My, Hood, how delightfully kinky of you!</em></p><p>…Though he did eventually run into someone who thought they had seen the menace somewhere earlier that night – a tip sent him on a wild goose chase around the city because Robin seemed unable to sit still for one goddamn minute. Red Hood was always two steps behind him, with every location he was pointed to already menace-free by the time he reached it.</p><p>He was on the verge of going fucking medieval on this shithole of a city, <strike>then breaking down crying amidst the wreckage,</strike> when finally, FINALLY Red Hood found the red-and-green pest. Robin was hanging upside-down from the platform of the fire escape, because of course he did, and filling the ears of Red Hood’s former snitch of an informant with a fresh dose of bullshit. Blissfully unaware that the day of reckoning was upon him.</p><p>But not for much longer.</p><p>“ROBIN!” Red Hood bellowed from across the street, channelling the blood-boiling rage that startled the menace into falling off his perch.</p><p>“Hood!” The heap on the ground called, its voice coloured with surprise.</p><p>“You better fuckin’ -!” The rest of Red Hood’s villainous monologue was drowned out by the ear-splitting squee. A blink of an eye later, his predatorial advance was halted by the colourful blur colliding with him, then attaching itself to his frame.</p><p>“Hood!” The menace cheered, all happiness and excitement, and those goddamn dimples. “I’m SO HAPPY to see you!” He confessed, sounding so painfully earnest that for a hot second there Red Hood forgot why exactly he wanted to put the fear of God into his heart.</p><p><em>No, no, NO!</em> Red Hood cried his denial at the hot-white fury tickling out of him. Why the hell did the kid act so ridiculously glad to meet him, when Jason “Street Rat” Todd dealt his whole life with nothing but scorn?! And why in the fuck did it split his mind that Robin wielded adoration, the one fucking thing Red Hood had no defence against, like a deadly weapon?!</p><p>“It’s been too long!” Robin rubbed his cheek against the side of Red Hood’s helmet like an affectionate kitten.</p><p>Holding for dear life onto his rage, Red Hood turned his attention to the other the Alley kid-cum-snitch. He was still there, gawking at them – correction, still there and making moony eyes at the menace. Red Hood could not even begin to explain why, but something about it annoyed the shit out of him.</p><p>“You.” He pointed at the snitch. “Get lost.”</p><p>“C’mon, don’t be like that, Hood -”</p><p>“And you,” he growled at the menace, intercepting a groping hand on its way under his jacket. With the same level of intimidation that left deranged scumbags thrice Robin’s age in tears, he delivered an ominous, “you and I are gonna have a wee little chat.”</p><p>“Oh my God!” Robin gasped. “It’s finally happening!” He whispered, spectacularly failing to read the room.</p><p>Red Hood would have screamed at high heavens in frustration, if Robin positively <em>vibrating</em> with joy did not wave a huge red flag in his mind.</p><p>Well, bigger than usual, that is.</p><p>Robin leaned back a little to beam at him with the full force of his dimples, before throwing his arms around his neck. Emotions made that strange accent of his thick as he said, “yes, I will go with you on a date!”</p><p>The vast expanse of the known universe was sucked down into one supermassive, uncomprehending <strong><em>what</em></strong>.</p><p>“Sorry, Tony!” Robin looked over his shoulder at the snitch. “I’ll catch up with you later! MY BOYFRIEND and I are going on a date!”</p><p>Then, it exploded in a supernova of spluttering outrage.</p><p>“WHAT?! How, the hell…?! Hey, NO -!”</p><p>“Yo guys!” The snitch yelled on top of his lungs.</p><p>Right across the street, a frazzled waitress popped her head out of the window. Further down the street, two thugs beating up the third one stilled their fists, turning around to squint at them. A solitary working lady by the lamppost looked up from her hand mirror, lipstick in hand.</p><p>“It’s code red!” The snitch announced, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Robin-Hood date is a go!”</p><p>The waitress let out a gasp and disappeared back inside the diner.</p><p>The <em>WHAT NOW?!</em></p><p>The snitch actually dared to give him a conspiratorial wink. “It’s your ship name.”</p><p>The three thugs gave them thumbs up.</p><p>“Told ya Hood would come ‘round!” One of them yelled, before resuming the scuffle.</p><p>That shook him out of his inarticulate stupor.</p><p>“HELL NO!” Red Hood roared as he threw the menace off of himself. “I’m comin' around like SHIT, you ASSHOLES!”</p><p>Robin was pouting something fierce at him from the ground. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy -”</p><p>Nope, no way. Red Hood was not listening to him. He would not let him mess with his head, using his menace, possibly meta powers. Whatever the kid was saying was just background noise, unintelligible buzz if you will, and it held no power over him.</p><p>Out of nowhere, appeared the frazzled waitress.</p><p>“Here,” she pushed two chilli dogs into Red Hood’s hands. “If it’s for the Boy Wonder’s date, then it’s on the house.”</p><p>“There's NO DATE,” he growled as he pushed past her because that was fucking it. He needed to get out. Out of this fuckery, out of this city, maybe even the country. Actually, out of this planet sounded good, too. He was obviously in need of a profound change in his life if a simple plan to intimidate the menace into silence backfired this terribly.</p><p>“Hey,” the working lady stood in his path. “Be careful with Robin, ya hear me?” She demanded while chewing gum. Loudly. “Your boyfriend’s a gentle soul.”</p><p>“He is not my boyfriend!” He hissed, getting violent flashbacks to the New Year’s Fiasco. His hands closed into fists around the chilli dogs.</p><p>“Sure, Hood.” She patted him on the arm. “Whatever makes you sleep better at night.”</p><p>A scream of frustration tore itself from his throat after all. As if to manifest their mental support, all dogs on the block started howling too.</p><p>“Fuck it all to hell,” he hissed and promptly stormed out, barely dodging a pot plant thrown by an angry tenant.</p><p>“Wait up, Hood!” Robin called over the pitter-patter of his pixie boots. “I’m coming with you!”</p><p>Red Hood fastened his stride.</p><hr/><p>Little Robin's superpower, Red Hood decided as he glared at the chilli dog in his hand, was the ability to bullshit things into reality. It had to be. There was no other logical explanation as to why he was sitting on the edge of a random rooftop with the menace on their, quote-unquote, <em>date</em> if that had not been the case. And Red Hood couldn’t even make a break for it, because once Robin had stalked after him all the way up here, he linked their arms and practically pinned himself to his side. Now, he was munching on his chilli dog and swinging his legs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.</p><p>
  <em>God-fucking-damnit. </em>
</p><p>“So,” Robin gave him a doe-eyed look over his chilli dog. How he pulled it off with his domino covering his eyes, Red Hood had no idea. “You mentioned there was something you wanted to talk about?”</p><p>Right! There was, wasn’t there? Red Hood was supposed to be ending Robin’s reign of bullshit, not play pretend boyfriends. Since the menace oh so graciously brought it up, there was really no time like the present to finally put the menace into his place. The place being <em>squashed under Red Hood’s boot</em>.</p><p>“Yeah,” he snarled as he straightened his back. He loomed over the menace, going for the intimidation factor. “For fuck's sake, kid, you -!”</p><p>Robin's doe-eyed look intensified.</p><p><em>Shut your goddamn mouth</em> abruptly died on Red Hood’s tongue.</p><p>“Yes?” The menace politely inquired. He was still staring at him, expectant.</p><p>“Old Bat’s said you’re failing English,” Red Hood blurted out.</p><p>
  <em>(What in the nine circles of hell was wrong with him?!)</em>
</p><p>Robin groaned. “It’s not my fault! Mister Harris is mean and has it out for me! He's failing half my written assignments for no reason at all!”</p><p>Red Hood was somewhat taken aback by the whining reaction.</p><p>(Also, he vividly remembered the tenured English teacher at his cursed Alma Mater, may it turn to ashes, as a wonderfully understanding man who had commended him on his rendition of Hamlet in a school play.)</p><p>“I mean, look!” Robin set his chilli dog aside to fiddle with his phone. “This is my last assignment and there’s nothing wrong with it!” He practically slapped Red Hood’s helmet with the device.</p><p>Only because a savvy strategist like him knew what battles were worth picking, he took the phone from the kid. “It wasn’t so much the pain of unrequited love,” he read under his breath a random line, “as the chronic Weltschmerz that drove the protagonist…What?” He blinked at the German word, unapologetically wedged into the sentence, no additional comment, no quotation marks, no nothing. “Weltschmerz?” He turned his gaze from the screen to the menace. “Like, the pain of the world?”</p><p>“There’s a bit more to that but in a nutshell, yep.” Robin nodded, a huge grin on his face.</p><p>“Why would you randomly put German words into your English writing assignment?” Red Hood asked, making one (1) valiant attempt to understand his thought processes.</p><p>Robin cocked his head to the side, a picture of confusion. “Why wouldn't I? It perfectly sums up what I wanted to say.”</p><p> “Couldn't you have just said that the protagonist was…uh, suffering due to their disillusionment with the state of worldly matters?”</p><p>“<em>Eww!</em>” Robin wrinkled his nose in disgust like the mere idea personally offended him or something. “It's such a mouthful!”</p><p>Red Hood had no idea what to say to that, so he looked back at the phone screen. “...Drove the protagonist to send that,” he did a double-take. “Why the hell is a Cyrillic script in here?”</p><p>Robin stole a glance at the screen. “Oh! <em>Dusheshchipatelnyi</em>,” he said like it explained everything.</p><p>It didn’t.</p><p>Sensing his confusion, Robin went on to explain. “You know,” he made a vague hand motion that did nothing to help get his point across. “It’s like heartfelt in English, only better, because it has words for soul and pinching put together. So, it’s like pinching on your soul.” He concluded with a beaming smile.</p><p>…Okay, Red Hood was beginning to see a pattern here.</p><p>“Listen, kid.”</p><p>“Robin.”</p><p>Red Hood somehow held in a profanities-laden retort. “Robin.”</p><p>The menace’s grin got so blinding he had to avert his eyes for a second.</p><p>“An assignment for your English class is supposed to be written in English.”</p><p>Robin crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not my fault you Americans lack the vocab to describe human suffering.” He huffed.</p><p>“<em>You</em> Americans?” Beneath his helmet, Red Hood was raising an eyebrow. The choice of words struck him as odd. But then he remembered his initial research into all things Dick Grayson and the increasingly sensational Gotham Gazette headlines it yielded, with various claims about <em>the circus orphan’</em>s background. That in turn made him think just how awful being in the centre of that shitstorm had to be.</p><p>Robin stole his phone back from his back, his face suddenly serious. There was something in his expression, something that Red Hood couldn't name, but had him on edge nonetheless.</p><p>“But you do, don't you?” Red Hood almost jumped out of his skin, when Robin rested his head on his shoulder. “You know all about suffering, even if you do lack the vocab.”</p><p>“Uh.” He was suffering right now, alright, from the mental whiplash that the sudden change of the mood gave him.</p><p>Robin snuggled closer to his side. To Red Hood’s horror, he grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.</p><p>“And you don’t want anyone to know that but you’re very brave. And kind. And you care so much.”</p><p>“Kid,” Red Hood had to cut in because it felt awful like that litany was leading into something truly dreadful. <strike>Like a love confession.</strike> “You don’t even know how I look.”</p><p>“But I do!” Robin snapped his head to look up at him. “B keeps the photos of you. From before. And besides...” The signature impish grin made a dramatic comeback, full of unspoken promises that Robin’s next words were bound to majorly piss Red Hood off. “When you were helping Superman last month? Remember?”</p><p>Red Hood sure wished he hadn't. “Yeah?” He said, beyond wary.</p><p>“Lois snapped a pic of you when you didn’t have your helmet on.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh no, that bitch, she <strong>didn't</strong>!</em>
</p><p>Robin leaned even closer to share in an intimate whisper, “you weren’t wearing any shirt, either.”</p><p>
  <em>A fatal error occurred and the system must close.</em>
</p><p>“THE FUCK?!” Red Hood flew to his feet like a cat at the sight of a cucumber.</p><p><em>That little lecher!</em> Red Hood was aghast, almost choking on righteous indignation. He could not believe the shit the kid had just spawned! And Red Hood could not believe himself either, a grown-ass man barely able to stop himself from crossing his arms over his chest, like a blushing virgin that he wasn’t, when the menace was just taking piss…</p><p>Because he was just taking piss, right? Goddamn, it better fucking be, because if not, Red Hood would rain vengeance upon Metropolis, set on fire every photo ever put on the film, wipe clean every last hard drive under the sun, hack into every cloud to hit delete on it, provided that sheer mortification would not kill him first, right here where he stood.</p><p>At least the menace-induced freak-out broke whatever voodoo magic it was he had cast to force Red Hood into playing chummy-chummy with him, his crusade forgotten. Well, no fucking more. The time was here, almost overripe, to show this fucking menace where…!</p><p>“I have it framed on my nightstand.”</p><p><em>...Nevermind</em>.</p><p>Red Hood spun on his heels, his face practically melting off his head.</p><p>“No, wait!” Robin chased after him. “I have something I wanted to give you!”</p><p>Fuck <strong>NO</strong>. And to hell with crusades; after that last killing blow all Red Hood wanted was to drag his pathetic ass somewhere menace-free to die there in peace. Perhaps that was what he deserved as a sorry excuse of a budding crime lord, sordidly defeated by a schoolboy on a break from a horny jail.</p><p>“It’s nothing weird, I promise! Please?” The pleading tone in Robin’s voice turned into full-on begging as he ran behind him, so. Fucking. Insistent. “<em>Please?</em>”</p><p>Despite himself, his better judgement, his gut feeling and the flight instinct, Red Hood did stop, right at the edge on the other side of the rooftop. “What.” He demanded.</p><p>“Here,” slightly out of breath, Robin handed him a small envelope.</p><p>“What is this shit?” He eyed the thing suspiciously.</p><p>“Just open it,” the menace gave him a shy smile. <em>Shy</em>. Like, what the fuck, this kid shouldn’t even know how to do <em>shy</em>, especially after that most recent display of pure shamelessness. “Please?” He went back to the doe-eyed look.</p><p>“...God-fucking-damnit,” Red Hood mumbled under his breath, tearing the thing open. He fished out an invitation card, drowned in way too much glitter, and squinted at the headline. “Birthday party?” He sneered, looking between the glitter and the kid. What kind of new fuckery was this?</p><p>“I’m turning sixteen next month.” Robin smiled at his toes as he swung on the balls of his feet. It was hard to tell for sure in the dim light of the city at night, but his cheeks appeared to have taken on a darker hue.</p><p><em>No fucking way</em>, Red Hood thought, properly weirded out now, on top of everything else. The menace actually had the gall to act <em>bashful</em>.</p><p>“You don’t have to give me a present or anything,” Robin was quick to add. “But it would mean a lot to me if you were there.”</p><p><em>There </em>being the fucking Wayne Manor, according to the glittery monstrosity of an invitation. The choice of the venue alone would have called for a hard pass, even on a good day. Mixed with Robin’s sweet sixteen and this definitely being a bad day, though, it equalled to<em> I’d rather eat a crowbar</em>.</p><p>He was tempted to say as much, then tear Robin's little invitation to pieces. Scratch tempted, that was exactly what he <em>should</em> have done, hoping against hope it would be enough to finally get the kid off his back. But instead, he stared at him like an indecisive dumbass, while the silence between them stretched, filled with Robin’s hopeful expectations.</p><p>“Shoot!” Robin made a show of checking his wristwatch. “I didn't realise it was so late!” He said, feeling his utility belt for the grapnel. “Gotta go now, see you soon!” He gave Red Hood one last beaming smile, before swinging himself away on the way to the Base. Cave. Batcave. <em>Whatever</em>.</p><p>Cursing under his breath, he grabbed his grapnel too and set off in the opposite direction. The little envelope was still in his hand.</p><hr/><p>Days trickled by.</p><p>Between turning into fine dust what little was left of Black Mask's crime empire and batting off the hounding from the extended cape community, Red Hood hardly even noticed February turn into March, then the second week of the month turning into third. Before he knew it, the date smeared with glitter was the same as the one displayed on the screen of his phone, and Red Hood found himself picking up the invitation from where it had gathered dust on the nightstand.</p><p>And the thing was – even if he were to put his issues with the Waynes and Robin himself aside, Red Hood still point blank refused to partake in whatever freak extravaganza the menace would concoct on the Wayne property. Just, the whole notion was bloody stupid. Him, Red Hood, Jason “Street Rat” Todd, a twenty-year-old grown man going on twenty-one, thrust into the teenage take on privileged opulence. Him, on the same premises as a bunch of stuck-up pupils of Gotham Academy (may it burn to ashes), the same breed as Red Hood’s own asshole classmates he still dreamed of punching in the face. And, of course, the purge cringe of <em>sweet sixteen</em> with associated drama and Ghul prowling the grounds like a chaperone from hell. Mysterious and nonsensical as Robin’s thought process were, in what fucking universe was putting all that and Red Hood together considered a good idea?</p><p>So yeah, he wasn’t going. But as he watched his ridiculous invite glitter in the bedside lamp’s light, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, possibly, hypothetically it wouldn’t hurt to let the kid know. As in, to properly turn him down, rather than choke on the receiving end of his doe-eyed look. Perhaps a note stuck on Batsignal (<em>it caught on, goddamnit!</em>) with huge NO and a choice of profanities would suffice.</p><p>Then again, why should he? He was Red Hood, for fuck’s sake, arguably one of the deadliest man alive, whose record of twelve beheadings in two hours still stood. Besides, he had always been called a rude fuck and also, he hated Robin’s guts. He certainly didn’t owe him anything. It wasn’t like he asked to be held in any kind of regard. And <em>so what</em> if the kid would later pout about it? Life was not fucking fair and the sooner little Robin would get that, the better he’d be off in the long run.</p><p>So he made himself a pot of camomile tea, picked up his abandoned Epic Revenge Vision Board and allowed the whole day to pass unmarked. He didn’t send any notes or messages, and not once did he venture outside. His conscience was clean.</p><p>…Then why did he feel like the biggest asshole that had ever lived?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turned out that a great number of people sympathised with Red Hood for feeling like an asshole. As in, they thought he was an asshole, too.</p><p>Some took a very proactive stance on the contempt they had for him. A shiny example of this demographic would be a random thug who spat vengefully at his feet and declared him <em>a real tool</em> for all the homeless within the earshot to hear and grunt their agreement. And sure, Red Hood had been called worse, <em>way </em>worse during his days as a street rat, then the high society eye-sore, then the walking dead with a grudge. But the sheer fierceness? The unexpectedness? The out-of-context-ness of that insult? It took him aback so much, he kind of just...stood there, gaping at the saliva on the ground, then at the dark scowl on the Random Thug’s face, then back of said thug’s head as he stormed away, channelling a sulking girlfriend to Red Hood’s clueless boyfriend.</p><p>Then, there those who believed scorn a dish best served silent. Red Hood estimated that the majority of Gotham's population and almost all of the extended cape community fell under that umbrella since wherever he went, the Headshakes Of Disdain always seemed to follow. They were being flawlessly executed by the heaps of beaten up goons and petty drug lords paying up his due forty per cent alike, while little street rats were partial to mixing them with the Glares of Doom. There was a curious exception to that, though, in the form of frigging Superman and the sad face emojis he now texted him every. Fucking. Day.</p><p>In stark contrast to the silently pissed, they were also those who preferred to take a passive, yet very vocal approach. A representative here had got to be the working ladies of Crime Alley. Politely ignoring the fact he was laying on a roof with a rifle, obviously trying to get a clean shot at Black Mask’s head, they gathered around him and commenced lamenting. It started with a pitch-perfect <em>that poor boy</em> that quickly devolved into a cacophony of <em>such a gentle soul</em> and <em>he was so sad</em>, and rose in crescendo to the final <em>how could you, Hood!</em></p><p>(That it was the menace who made the <em>stood up by Red Hood</em> a matter of public knowledge was a forgone conclusion at that point.)</p><p>One should not forget to mention a special case of the goddamn snitch of a former informant, <em>whatshisface</em>, Tony. The kid really found himself in the role of Robin’s unhinged, friend-zoned suitor, playing suggestively with a rusty switch-blade as he deadpanned, “some of us would <strong><em>kill </em></strong>to get asked out by Robin.”</p><p>Other than giving Red Hood creeps and earning himself a swat up his head, the snitch unwittingly revealed that the birthday part was apparently omitted in Robin’s sob story. And it was jolly fucking good that it was, not only for the sake of protecting the menace’s secret identity but even more so for the sake of Red Hood’s own sanity. If the assumption that he hadn’t shown up on a stupid date had the folks acting as if he had pulled a damn Scarecrow dosing half the city in fear toxin during Super Bowl broadcast, then he didn’t want to imagine what outrage swapping <em>date </em>with <em>sixteenth birthday</em> would unleash.</p><p>...Last but not least, there was, of course, Black Mask himself. Red Hood supposed the scumbag just couldn’t help it; he had to prove himself the biggest asshole that ever marred the Earth, by saying something along the lines of <em>I might be a deranged piece of shit, but even <strong>I</strong> wouldn't have stood the kid up like that</em>. While at it, he also proved that opening his goddamn trap on this somewhat touchy subject was his last, fatal mistake, as Red Hood was trigger-happy on top of fed up with all this bullshit, so let him just say that he didn’t think Black Mask would pull through that one.</p><p>However, throughout a whole bloody week of this fuckery unfolding, one person remained noticeably absent. Red Hood had not seen hide or hair of Robin which might have been just as fucking well - he didn’t think he would have been able <em>not </em>to give in to the temptation of bending the menace over his knee to give him a good spanking for his bratty, hate campaign-instigating ways. And yes, once he angrily muttered that line under his breath, he did realise that as far as punishment went, such course of action was most likely to be counter-productive. The chokehold fiasco sure had taught him to better play things safe and potential kink-free.</p><p>So yeah, Red Hood not once crossed paths with Robin that week and <strike>sometimes he laid awake in his bed</strike> enjoyed the lack of surprise smooches assaulting his helmet <strike>wondered if the kid hated him now</strike>. He focused on that rather than on how upset he was with <strike>Robin's hypothetical hatred</strike> his own sorry ass for being upset at the missing sense of camaraderie with the Alley (for fuck’s sake, dealing with scorn had used to be no biggie!) while grinding his teeth at the incessant nagging to <em>apologise</em>. Or rather, to beg for forgiveness, preferably  Japanese <em>dogeza</em>-style, wearing appropriate attire for the occasion that apparently was red, sequin thong a giggly hooker threw at his helmet. Since that shit was so obviously not going to happen, Red Hood and the contemptuous public seemed to have reached an impasse.</p><p>Then, none other than Damian<em> I’m the blood son</em> Al Ghul-Wayne sought him out.</p><hr/><p>“Todd.” Damian greeted with a nod from where he was oh so casually leaning against the secret entrance to Red Hood’s safe house.</p><p>Underneath his helmet, Red Hood’s lips thinned. Even though he knew it was only a matter of time that one of the Bats would poke his wrinkly (the Old Bat), stupid (Ghul) or blackhead-ridden (whatever it was Timbo called himself these days) nose into this bullshit, it absolutely did not mean he was looking forward to it.</p><p>“Ghul.” Red Hood spat out, since the <em>stupid</em> nose it was. “Always a displeasure to see you.”</p><p>He puffed out his chest and straightened himself to his full height, to show how unthreatened he felt by Damian’s little power play move. So what if the bastard knew where his, as of this moment, <em>former</em> safe house was. Red Hood memorised the location of Ghul's pockets with spare equipment all over the city. Damian should better proceed with caution for being pissed off once (1) was all that stood between Red Hood and setting the asshole's stuff on fire.</p><p>Damian was ostentatiously unimpressed with Red Hood’s posturing. “If I may have a moment of your time -”</p><p>“You may not.” Red Hood cut right in.</p><p>Damian didn’t let it throw him off. Always a non-believer in “You didn’t come to Robin’s birthday party.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ seriously?” Red Hood snorted, because wow. They really were having this lame-ass conversation, him and <em>Ghul</em> of all people. Gods of cosmic order somewhere out there had got to be laughing themselves silly at the demon nightmare of Jason’s formative years confronting him all mother hen-like about the menace’s stupid <em>sweet sixteen</em>. “You can’t tell me you actually thought I would.”</p><p>“I knew you would not.” Oh goodie. At least the asshole wasn't delusional. “But I did not expect you to be so callous about it.”</p><p>Red Hood gaped at him because that was too fucking rich. “You sure you wanna talk about bein’ callous with <em>me</em>, Ghul?” Given all the beef he had with the man, and with Timbo too, Damian long since lost the moral right to call him out on anything.</p><p>Damian’s expression grew pinched but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Robin was devastated -”</p><p>And the thing was – Red Hood did not mean to kiss his cool and aloof goodbye. But there was a whole week's worth of exasperation buzzing right beneath his skin. He was barely able to hold it in as it was, so with one mention of the menace being precious about his stupid feelings, delivered by Ghul to boot, it violently ejected itself out in a volcano explosion of outrage.</p><p>“Devastated?” Red Hood snarled as if taking offence at the adjective itself. “Oh, please!” He threw his hands up in an overly theatrical gesture. “What in the <em>fuck</em> did the kid have to be devastated about?! That I wasn’t around to watch him whip out Old Man’s platinum credit card at the cops when a high society Karen complained about drunken teenagers puking all over Wayne’s backyard?”</p><p>For a hot second there Damian appeared shell-shocked by his outburst. “Is that how you think it was?” He asked carefully, as if mindful (<em>Ghul being mindful, ha!</em>) not to set him off again.</p><p>“Duuuh,” Red Hood mocked, getting in touch with his twelve-year-old self. He crossed his arms over his chest.</p><p>“For your information,” Damian was still talking in that careful manner that Red Hood did not care for at all. “Aside from Robin, there was no teenagers present, drunken or otherwise.”</p><p>With how popular a menace like Robin <em>surely</em> was at the Gotham Academy (may it burn to ashes), Red Hood found it hard to believe.</p><p>Damian took his silence for an okay to continue. “Even though father offered, Robin did not want a big celebration nor any of his school peers there.”</p><p>Red Hood was about to call bullshit, opening his mouth with the first syllable on the tip of his tongue, when unbridled came the memories of all the times little Robin randomly pounced on Red Hood when he ought to be out of the city on school trips. Then, his traitorous brain made him recall the half-repressed humiliation of the rooftop chase and the honest surprise in the kid’s words at his suggestion to go torment boys his age at school.</p><p>(<em>“Why would I want to go out with anyone in there?</em>”)</p><p>So Red Hood found himself closing his mouth, having said nothing.</p><p>“It was a small tea party. English style. At five o’clock.” Damian eventually said, ushering in the uncomfortable realisation that Red Hood might have been teeny, tiny bit projecting his own dickhead classmates on the kid. “Robin insisted we wait until six, though, in case you were running late.”</p><p>Despite himself, Red Hood imagined the Wayne Manor patio, with porcelain teacups on the table, Alfred’s famous jam on the scones, the grandfather clock striking six and Robin’s beaming smile turning upside-down.</p><p><em>That random thug was right</em>, it dawned on him to the exponentially growing sense of self-reproach, <em>I am a real tool</em>.</p><p>“He invited only a couple of people that he deemed the closest and most important to him.” Damian apparently decided he hadn’t made him feel like an asshole enough just yet and his matter-of-fact delivery somehow made his revelations twice as horrible to handle. “I, myself, was there. So was my father. And Pennyworth. And Timothy.” He counted the names on his fingers, each sounding painfully damning. “Mister Haly of Haly’s Circus.” Damian was counting the names still. “Clark Kent.” He made a small pause.</p><p><em>Don't fucking say it</em>, Red Hood begged in the depths of his asshole-ish despair.</p><p>“And you.”</p><p>Damn it.</p><p>“Robin baked the scones himself.”</p><p><em>God-<strong>fucking</strong>-damnit</em>.</p><p>“And I get it,” Damian sighed, before just going for an even bigger can of worms. “You never had it easy. Timothy and I certainly did not make anything better. My family on both sides has wronged you. For how little it is worth…” He trailed off and the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse had to be galloping through the overcast skies somewhere, heralding incoming doom, because his next words were, “I am sorry.</p><p>“Still,” Damian went on with his monologue, seeing as Red Hood was kind of broken at the moment. “The issues you have with us? You don’t have to take them out on Robin. He didn’t suffer nearly as much as you did, none of us has. But life is not a trauma competition and Robin doesn’t have it easy either.” He said, sounding so damn grown-up, making so much fucking sense that Red Hood hated it. “I don't wish to pretend that I know why Robin likes you so much. What I do know, though, is that he has been miserable this past week and it is… Heart-breaking to watch.”</p><p>Wow. If Damian, famously known to possess an unfeeling slab of meat in his chest to pump his blood, called something heart-breaking… Then it was a wonder the downturn of Robin’s mouth hadn’t caused a city-wide public mourning and the reactionary outrage calling for Red Hood’s head on the spike.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Damian was visibly pained to force the word out. “Just, talk to him.” Then, with more sincerity than Red Hood had ever expected to hear from him, he shared, “I want my bubbly Robin back.”</p><p>Red Hood cleared his throat. Too many thoughts were circling in his head, too many things felt raw. And frankly, the desire to be fucking petty was somewhere in there too, as some apologies, astounding phenomena that they were, meant simply too little and came too late to make things better.  </p><p>But some did not. And besides, if Damian <em>fucking</em> Al Ghul <em>freaking</em> Wayne was man enough to reveal himself a human being, equipped with empathy to boot, then Red Hood sure as hell was man enough to face a teenage boy who <em>liked him.</em> <strike>Like he should have months ago.</strike></p><p>“I…Yeah.” He said. “I’ll talk to him.”</p><p>Damian’s face might have been schooled into a neutral expression, but he could tell some of the tension left his frame. “He likes to sit on the rooftop of Gotham Cathedral when he’s upset.”</p><p>Red Hood curtly nodded. He was already making his way back to the city when Damian called after him.  </p><p>“Oh, and Todd?”</p><p>He looked over his shoulder.</p><p>Damian smiled faintly. “I thank thee, Red Hood.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <strike>You don't want to know how many times I hit delete and rewrote everything when working on this chapter ;_;.</strike>
</p><p> </p><p>You can find me <a href="https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/">here</a>.<br/>Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.</p>
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